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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691515">i found what you've been hiding between the cracks in the ceiling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/softvoice/pseuds/softvoice'>softvoice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dreams and ideas should not be the same thing [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Boxing, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Crime, Background Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Background Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Minor Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Strangers to Lovers, don’t tell minho though, oblivious idiots, they’re both just fools in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:09:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>50,881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/softvoice/pseuds/softvoice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Loving people comes naturally to Minho. He’s never considered himself to be particularly reserved when giving up his time and energy and all the love he has to offer but accepting it in return is something he struggles with. Enter Jisung, far out of Minho’s comfort zone and, if he's being honest, meant to be a one-time thing.</p><p>Jisung is difficult to crack, but for some reason, Minho feels like he’s known him for longer than a lifetime. Falling into his orbit is easier than breathing, being around him is second nature, and loving him is so difficult, it makes his chest ache.</p><p>--</p><p>In which Minho learns a thing or two about love, and how easy it is to be loved in return.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dreams and ideas should not be the same thing [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>MINSUNG BINGO: Round One</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the locks aren't enough to keep you out anymore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <span class="small">[scratches head] hi</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">→ this is officially the longest thing i've written. it was originally meant to be between 7k and 10k but then it wasn't and now this exists.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">→ did i push the boundaries of what a two chapter fic should be? absolutely. be grateful it's not one chapter because i really wanted it to be one chapter.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">→ <b>content and trigger warnings are tagged at the beginning of each chapter but this fic includes violence aftermath, anxiety, smoking, burnout, minho’s abandonment issues, them being violently suggestive (see: sexual references and innuendos), alcohol consumption and swearing.</b></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">this is a fill for <a href="https://twitter.com/minsungbingo">minsung bingo</a>.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small"><b>spaces filled:</b> <i>strangers to lovers, au – crime/mystery/thriller, drinking games, stuck in an elevator, domesticity, bar/club scenes, amusement parks, highway rest stops, banter as flirting, libraries, confessions and free space – holidays.</i></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><a href="https://www.pinterest.at/closecore/ceiling-cracks/">not a pinterest board</a>. <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6m6HTeFqaloLQmp6sgegJ3?si=FRn6908oRdGPQc4Qr85F4A">not a playlist</a>.</span>
</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span class="small"><b>tw:</b> violence aftermath (see: blood, bruising), mild panic attack (comes after jisung's letter), alcohol consumption, smoking.</span>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lee Minho has always had an affinity for pretty things.</p><p>Maybe that’s why he‘s paying more attention to the string lights strung around the room than the people in it— it could be irrelevant, but he’s not fazed by much these days.</p><p>It’s no secret that he prefers small gatherings to parties, prefers drinking wine with his friends to beers with strangers. However, if having party crawler friends like Changbin and Hyunjin means mood lighting and cheap alcohol every so often, he can’t bring himself to mind that much.</p><p>This one isn’t that bad. The host is one of Changbin’s friends from the music department, and he finds the red lights to be a rather attentive touch. He doesn’t care for the EDM blasting through the sound system, but he figures that sometimes it just is what it is.</p><p>“Hey, hyung, is it okay if I head out?” Changbin throws an arm over his shoulder and gets close enough for him to hear. “I’ve got someone waiting outside for me.”</p><p>Minho turns to look at him. They’re both borderline drunk, Minho a bit more so than Changbin. “As long as you don’t drive,” he slurs, “then yeah, have fun— don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”</p><p>“So I can do whatever I want, then?” he asks, earning himself a shove right off the couch. “Fine, fine, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”</p><p>Minho salutes him, going back to nursing his drink. It’s some sort of strawberry punch with vodka— his choice drink of the night from the unusually extensive selection for a house party— much like everything else about tonight; he can’t say he hates it.</p><p>He’s about to get up and maybe find Hyunjin when a body collapses onto the couch next to him, their exposed arm pressing against Minho’s. The tattooed bicep is a stark contrast to his own empty skin.</p><p>“Hi,” the man says, pushing blue hair out of his eyes, “Isn’t this party a bit too nice for you to be all alone?”</p><p>Minho shrugs, leaning into the guy’s flirting and abandoning his plans to find Hyunjin. “That an offer?” he asks, a small gasp escaping him as a hand finds his thigh.</p><p>“It is,” he starts, eyes glittering in the low light, “if you want it to be, that is.”</p><p>“And if I do?”</p><p>The man tilts his head, hair falling back into his eyes. “I’d tell you to follow me, pretty boy.”</p><p>He lets the man pull him through the hazy crowd of college students, pushing past a particularly intense game of beer pong before they reach a hallway. </p><p>“What’s your name, princess?” the guy asks, pressing him up against the wall.</p><p>He blushes at the nickname. “Minho,” he says, “Lee Minho.” </p><p>“You’re pretty, Lee Minho.” His fingers are pressed tight to Minho’s hip; he can feel them through the denim. “I’m Jisung.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Jisung,” he says, examining the way the light hits Jisung’s eyes <em> just right </em> , but how he also holds something so much <em> darker </em> behind them. “You gonna kiss me now?”</p><p>Jisung tucks a finger under Minho’s chin, pressing their lips together. It’s sweet at first, short enough for him to pull away if he wanted to, but the alcohol and the sweet taste lingering on Jisung’s lips has him going back for more.</p><p>He feels light-headed, weightless as he’s pushed and pulled and grabbed in a way that would usually make him feel uncomfortable but for some reason only makes him want to get closer to Jisung.</p><p>They pull back for a second, Minho tipping his head back against the wall and giving access to his neck. “It’s okay,” he says, breathless as Jisung kisses along his jaw, “You can— ah!”</p><p>Jisung seems to read his mind, leaving a pretty purple bruise over his pulse. </p><p>“Hmm,” he mumbles, eyes flicking up to meet Minho’s, “what was that, princess?” </p><p>If he hadn’t reduced Minho’s brain to jelly, he’d be receiving a shove for the cocky grin he’s sporting. Luckily for him, Minho decides that he’d prefer to have Jisung’s lips against his.</p><p>Jisung pushes his leg between Minho’s thighs and watches his pupils blow, ghosting their lips together.</p><p>“You fucker,” Minho says, weaving his fingers into blue hair. “Stop it.”</p><p>“You want me to stop?” Jisung whispers, a low hum pulled from his throat as Minho tugs. </p><p>“Stop doing that.” he chases Jisung’s lips, whining when he teasingly pulls away. “You see? Just fucking kiss me.”</p><p>Jisung hums again, gripping his waist just a little harder. “Such vulgar language,” he says, dragging his thumb over Minho’s lower lip, grinning at the way his pout falls away as his lips part, following the pull. “And from such a pretty mouth, too.”</p><p>Minho’s eyes sparkle under the fairy lights, and as much fun Jisung is having— toying with him— he decides he’d much prefer to kiss him until he can’t think straight. He presses their lips together again, sliding his tongue into Minho’s mouth with enough force to make his head spin.</p><p>He’s soft in Jisung’s arms, running a heavy hand under his tank top and grazing his fingertips across defined muscles. </p><p>The music thrums dully in their ears and reverberates through their chests. It’s drowned out by the sound of wet kisses and all the pretty noises that tumble uncontrollably from Minho’s lips and <em> god, </em>Jisung tastes like cheap beer and tobacco, utterly intoxicating.</p><p>Minho doesn’t mean to whimper when Jisung bites down on his lip — he does like to consider himself somewhat contained — maybe it’s the alcohol in his veins and how empty his head feels beyond the thought of getting <em> closer </em>that leaves him whining into his mouth almost embarrassingly.</p><p>“You’re cute when you’re needy,” Jisung says into the kiss. He moves the hand on Minho’s shoulder up to brush the hair out of his face, tugging the honey-blonde strands back so he can examine his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.</p><p>“You like cute?” Minho’s voice is a lot more breathless than he would have preferred.</p><p>“I quite like you, princess.”</p><p>“Stop calling me that.” </p><p>Jisung presses a kiss below his ear, hand still gripping his hair. “When it gets you like this? No way.”</p><p>He’s relentless on Minho’s neck— something rather unfair considering his own is entirely bare. Minho mentally accepts his fate of turtlenecks for the next week or so and pulls Jisung up by his shirt, returning the favour by sucking a purple bloom over the junction of his throat. </p><p>He soothes the mark with his tongue, biting back a moan as Jisung’s hand tightens in his hair. “Payback,” he mumbles against the salty skin.</p><p>Jisung’s low laugh sends a chill down Minho’s spine, and he decides — albeit in a drunken haze — that his laughter is the best sound he’s ever heard and he wouldn’t mind hearing it over and over again.</p><p>“Do you want to—” Minho is halfway through asking Jisung to leave with him, maybe pick up again at his apartment, when he’s interrupted.</p><p>“Minho-hyung!” a voice yells, and he really can’t help but roll his eyes, leaning his forehead against Jisung’s shoulder and letting out a heavy sigh.</p><p>“Hyunjin, I’m <em> busy </em>,” he groans. </p><p>"Seems like you gotta go," Jisung says, lifting his chin and pressing a quick kiss to his plush lips. “I hope I’ll see you around, princess.”</p><p>Before he can say goodbye, Jisung withdraws his hands and heads down the hallway, giving Hyunjin a friendly wave. </p><p>He sighs, slumping against the wall and tipping his head back. Hyunjin joins him as he slides to the floor, wrapping an arm around him. </p><p>“Having fun?” he asks, using Hyunjin’s shoulder as a pillow.</p><p>“Not as much as you, <em> princess.” </em></p><p>“Shut up!” Minho laughs, giving him a playful shove. “I’m serious, what’s got you searching for me the <em> one time </em>I’m busy?”</p><p>“I was hoping we could go…” his voice is a little choked. Minho hadn’t noticed how watery he’d sounded when he was calling his name down the hallway.</p><p>Minho actually looks at Hyunjin this time, taking his face in his hands and examining it. “Who the fuck made you cry?” he asks, wiping at his still-wet cheeks. “I’ll fucking kill them, who was it?”</p><p>Hyunjin sighs, eyes welling a little. “Don’t get mad at him,” he mumbles. “It was Jeongin.”</p><p>“Come, we’re leaving,” Minho says, pulling Hyunjin to his feet. His anger has sobered him up considerably, eyes blazing as he brings him into a hug. “You can stay at my place. Tell me what happened, okay?”</p><p>Hyunjin gives a sniff and a little nod, fingers digging into Minho’s back, crying into his shoulder. </p><p>“I’m gonna kill Jeongin next time I see him,” Minho mutters, arm wrapped around Hyunjin’s waist as he navigates through the groups of people. They’re almost at the door when Minho bumps into someone, almost sending their drink splashing all over the two of them.</p><p>The man catches the drink, saving both of them. “Sorry dude, that was a close— Minho?”</p><p>Minho is already dragging Hyunjin past when the man says his name. He looks over his shoulder at him. Jisung. </p><p>He nods in Hyunjin’s direction when Jisung tilts his head, confused at his departure. The look of understanding and the soft smile is enough to make Minho feel just a little warm even when they’re out on the street.</p><p>He knows it’s not only the alcohol.</p><p> </p><p>“So, what actually happened?” Minho asks, sitting a showered and fed Hyunjin down on the side of his bed. “Do I need to commit a crime? I will commit a crime—” </p><p>“No crime, Minho-hyung,” Hyunjin sighs, head drooping. “He told me… he told me we should break it off.”</p><p>Minho gasps, squeezing Hyunjin’s hand in a way that he hopes is comforting. “Baby, you don’t deserve that, not at all.”</p><p>“I—” Hyunjin’s shoulders start shaking again and Minho gathers him into his arms, smoothing his hair back and pressing a kiss to his forehead.</p><p>“It’s gonna be okay, Jin,” he mumbles, holding him tight. “It’s all gonna be okay.”</p><p>Hyunjin lifts his head, a watery sob escaping him. “Wait—” he says, wiping at his face— “You were with Han Jisung. Back in the hallway, you were with Han Jisung.”</p><p>Minho had almost forgotten in his rush to get Hyunjin home. He takes a moment to think on the boy, how gently he’d held him, how soft his lips were when he kissed him. “You know him?”</p><p>“I’m surprised you don’t,” Hyunjin says, “He’s like, famous on campus… and he’s Jeongin’s best friend.” </p><p>“Oh.” Minho feels sick. He’d really been hoping to see Jisung again.</p><p>“I’m not gonna stop you if you want to…” Hyunjin’s voice trails off. “You deserve to be happy, hyung, I’m not letting my stupid ex-not-boyfriend ruin that for you.”</p><p>“I’m not even sure I’m gonna see Jisung again.”</p><p>“Knowing him? I’m almost certain you will.” Hyunjin seems to have calmed down, tucking his head under Minho’s chin. “For real, I’ll be okay.”</p><p>Another question finds Minho. “Wait, if he’s Jeongin’s friend, does that mean…?”</p><p>“That he’s part of his inner circle? Yeah.”</p><p>They’re silent for a bit until Minho decides it’s time for them to head to sleep. He tucks Hyunjin in and turns off the light, rolling into bed on the other side. </p><p>Minho thinks he hears Hyunjin let out another sob but knows he prefers his space when he sleeps. Instead, he reaches out and intertwines their fingers.</p><p>“Good night, Jinnie,” he whispers, hoping the squeeze he gives Hyunjin's hand is enough to keep him grounded, at least for a while. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, is this seat taken?”  </p><p>Minho looks up from his doodle, shocked to find a mop of blue hair and a bright red hoodie looking down at him expectantly. His memory is a bit clouded by the alcohol, but he’d know that hair anywhere.</p><p>“Jisung?” he says, a little shocked, “I’m pretty sure you don’t take performance history.”</p><p>“Transferred today.” He grins, eyeing the collar of Minho’s black turtleneck. “So can I sit here, or are you saving it for someone?”</p><p>“It’s all yours.” Minho tries to hide the flush high on his cheeks. “There’s plenty of other seats, though.”</p><p>Jisung settles into the seat, pulling out a yellow pencil pouch. “Is it stupid to say I wanted to see you again?”</p><p>Minho <em> hates </em>the way his breath catches in his throat. “Not— not at all.”</p><p>“Oh, well, that’s good, then.” </p><p>A silence settles over them, broken occasionally by Minho tapping his pencil on the table. There’s a definite tension hanging in the air, punctuated by the uncharacteristic quiet of the lecture hall.</p><p>It’s broken by Jisung.</p><p>“You’re quiet, princess,” he says, and Minho can <em> hear </em>the grin in his voice.</p><p>“I’m not usually,” he starts, trying to ignore the nickname. He remembers his connection to Hyunjin. “How’s Jeongin?” His voice is laced with poison at the mention of his name.</p><p>“Ah, Jeongin…” Jisung trails off. “Jeongin— he’s got a lot going on right now.” Minho notices how carefully he chooses his words. “And that doesn’t mean I agree with what he did to Hyunjin, but it helps to understand.”</p><p>Minho hums, turning his answer over in his head. “You get why I’m mad?”</p><p>“Of course I do,” Jisung says, “You’re Hyunjin’s best friend, you have every right to be.”</p><p>He wasn’t expecting that but gives a hum, content with Jisung’s response. “Then I won’t hold your connection to Jeongin against you.”</p><p>Jisung laughs, it’s different from the low chuckle embedded in Minho’s memory, but he decides he likes this one just as much. “I’d appreciate that.”</p><p>Minho ponders on Jeongin for a bit while they make comfortable conversation. He hadn’t really considered that he might have his own issues beyond whatever Hyunjin feels inclined to share and his gut sinks at the way he’d been thinking about him.</p><p>He’s abruptly pulled away from his thoughts by their professor’s arrival and pushes the internal debate to the back of his mind— something to think on later.</p><p>Minho can’t say that performance theory is something he particularly enjoys, but he finds himself captivated by today’s lecture on the base of modern dance.</p><p>He fills three pages with notes before he realises Jisung’s eyes are on him. He tilts his head, sending him a questioning look. </p><p>Jisung laughs under his breath and shakes his head, going back to scrawling in his notebook. Minho peers over, noticing how tidy Jisung’s handwriting is for how fast he’s writing. He spots little flower doodles in the margins and can’t resist the urge to lean over and pencil in his own daisy. </p><p>The smile Jisung gives him is enough to keep his heart warm.</p><p> </p><p>About halfway through the lecture, Minho glances over at Jisung, shocked to find his eyes already on him.</p><p>Jisung lifts a finger to his lips, nodding towards the professor. Minho realises he wants him to pay attention to the lecture but finds it a bit difficult when Jisung pokes at his hand, pushing it around on the table.</p><p>Minho cocks his head to one side, questioning Jisung.</p><p>A grin, and then his hand retreats, going back to his notes.</p><p>Minho looks back down at his notebook, trying to concentrate. It's easy for him to get back into the lecture, enjoying the professor’s animated explanations of the influences from each era, but he also really wants to talk to Jisung.</p><p>He makes a decision, ripping a page out of his book and sliding it to Jisung.</p><p>He feels like he’s back in middle school— passing notes like children— but there’s no actual reason for the secrecy in the massive lecture hall apart from the sentiment.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What are you doing? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Talking to you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cute </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How old are you, princess? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Stop!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 24 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re older than me? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Damn </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Minho: 1 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jisung: 0 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Shut up </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m 22 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This really is a win for me </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You have to call me hyung now </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I think I’ll keep calling you princess actually </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I do what I want </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re so disrespectful </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I think you like it </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The lecture is over before Minho realises it.  </p><p>“I’ll see you around, <em> hyung </em>,” Jisung emphasises the honorific, the ghost of a smile ever-present on his lips as he turns to leave.</p><p>Minho considers for a moment, weighing his options. He decides on a leap of faith. </p><p>“Jisung, wait!” he calls, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Jisung turns to face him, understandably confused. “Your number.”</p><p>If he’s shocked in any way, he hides it behind a confident grin. “You want to put it in or can I?” he asks, smile only widening when Minho hands it to him. “Send me a message so I’ll have yours.”</p><p>Minho nods, playing with the cuff of his blazer. “I will.” </p><p>Jisung hums happily, giving Minho’s phone back. “I’ve gotta get to practice,” he says, “Don’t forget to message me.”</p><p>“How could I?” Minho laughs, tucking it away in his pocket. “I’ll see you whenever, then.”</p><p>“You will.” Jisung turns to leave but stops just short of the door to the lecture theatre. “Oh, Minho,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s cute — your phone case — charming.”</p><p>“You like cute?” he recalls his words from the other night. </p><p>Jisung huffs a laugh. “I quite like you.” </p><p>And then he’s gone, the door left swinging behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Minho heads to work after his last class. He doesn’t hate his job at the record store, but he can’t say that it’s all that interesting on a Tuesday afternoon. His favourite shifts are Saturdays. On Saturdays, the high school kids come in small groups. They’re better conversation than the pretentious men in their mid-thirties that hit on Minho while he’s scanning their items.</p><p>Those are the guys that come in on Tuesdays. </p><p>At around two in the afternoon, a man comes into the store. He looks like he could use a shower, smells like it too, but Minho can’t really tell him that. Instead, he opts for a polite greeting.</p><p>“Good afternoon, sir,” he says. “Can I help you with anything?”</p><p>The grunt he gets is enough to ward him off. He goes back to flicking through his messages and waits for the man to finish wandering through the makeshift aisles of records.</p><p>“You got anything good here?” the man calls, annoyance laced in his words. “Honestly, you kids don’t listen to decent music anymore.”</p><p>Minho makes his way around the counter to where he is, between the shelves. “Sir, can I help you find anything in particular or are you browsing genres…?”</p><p>“I’m just trying to find something that doesn’t sound like trash,” he says, straightening out. He looms over Minho— a good foot taller than him and built like a fridge— a little too close for comfort.</p><p>Minho stumbles back, narrowly avoiding tripping on one of the crates on the floor. “Sir, would you mind telling me what exactly it is you want?” He's trying desperately to keep his composure and hide the twinge of fear welling up behind his eyes.</p><p>“What do I want?” the man starts, taking a step closer to Minho. “Well, pretty boy, what I want—”</p><p>“Yo dude, leave him the fuck alone.”</p><p>Minho’s head snaps in the direction of the door. Jeongin stands just inside the store; hands shoved in his pockets and jaw set. He’s just to the side of the doorway, as though waiting for the man to leave.</p><p>“What are you waiting for?” he asks, nodding at the street. “Get lost, man.”</p><p>He watches the man scurry out, shying away from Jeongin as he passes him. </p><p>“You okay, hyung?” Jeongin asks, crouching next to where Minho has collapsed on the floor, knees giving out on him. “I was just passing through… saw that asshole through the window.”</p><p>“Yeah, I—” Minho starts, still trying to steady his racing heart. “I’m good now.”</p><p>“You sure?” He helps Minho to his feet.</p><p>He hums. “Yeah, thanks Jeongin.”</p><p>“Of course,” Jeongin says, straightening Minho’s shirt for him. “Listen, I know you’re mad about Hyunjin and me…”</p><p>“Oh yeah.” Minho had forgotten about that in his panic. “Jeongin, it’s not really my place to dictate your relationship for you.”</p><p>Jeongin seems taken aback, eyes widening in surprise. “I thought you would—”</p><p>“Hate you?” Minho asks. “I could never hate you, I just… I don’t know what you’re doing.”</p><p>He looks up at Jeongin, shocked to find his head hanging. “I’m not sure what I’m doing, either.”</p><p>“Please don’t hurt Hyunjin more,” Minho says, tapping his fingers on the counter. “He can’t— I hate seeing him like that.” </p><p>“I’ll do my best.” Jeongin glances at the door and shoves his hands further in his pockets. “I don’t want to.”</p><p>“I know you don’t.” Minho reaches up to pinch Jeongin’s cheek. “Now, off you go, I’m sure your afternoon plans didn’t involve tea at the record store with your favourite hyung.” </p><p>Jeongin grins, slapping a hand on the counter and turning to leave. “You are my favourite,” he calls. “Don’t tell Jisung, though.”</p><p>Minho laughs along with the bell that signals Jeongin’s exit.</p><p>He checks his phone— still two hours until he can leave— and resigns himself to his fate. It’s cold in the store, but he’s not entirely sure if it’s from the weather or the way his hands still shake, even after Jeongin chased the man away.</p><p>It’s not that he’s scared he’ll come back, but he can’t shake the fear that bloomed in his chest and rooted itself between his ribs. He feels stupid, it’s not like anything actually happened, but the feeling lingers.</p><p> </p><p>He lies in bed; knees pulled halfway to his chest and comforter tucked over his shoulder. The light from his phone casts a blue glow over his face, and he smiles as Jisung sends him a string of emojis ranging from cute to ridiculous.</p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">what are you doing tomorrow?</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <em> <span class="small">class?</span> </em></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">i have class sung</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">you have class</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">no silly</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">after </span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">oh </span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">nothing i guess</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">i don’t have work again until thursday </span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">we’re going somewhere</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">wear something pretty</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">may i ask where?</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">absolutely fucking not </span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">but jisungie~</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">baby</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">:((</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">don’t do that</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>j</b></span><span class="small"><b>isung: </b></span> <span class="small">you’ll find out tomorrow</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">hmph</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">fine </span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">good </span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">now go sleep princess</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">i wanna talk to you though</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">we’ll talk in the morning</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>jisung: </b></span> <span class="small">sleep well</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">&gt;:(</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">sigh</span></p><p><span class="small"><b>minho: </b></span> <span class="small">you too sungie</span></p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Minho is almost certain that the day takes longer than it should have. Maybe it’s because he’s curious as to what Jisung has in store for him, leg bouncing in his lectures as he watches the clock tick agonisingly slow.</p><p>When it’s finally time for him to leave, he rushes out of the lecture hall, almost crashing into the subject of his thoughts on his way. </p><p>“Woah there, baby,” he says, steadying Minho with hands on his biceps. “Where are you rushing off to?”</p><p>Minho relaxes when he realises it’s Jisung holding onto him. “Oh, you’re here,” he says, not pulling free. “I was coming to find you, but it seems you beat me to it.”</p><p>Jisung laughs. “Thought I’d surprise you.” he loosens his hold on Minho, who tries not to whine at the loss of contact. “Come, we’ve got places to be.” </p><p>He offers an arm to Minho, smiling as he takes it.</p><p>“You gonna tell me where we’re going now?” he asks, “since you <em> insisted </em>on not telling me last night?”</p><p>“Patience, princess,” Jisung says. “You’ve waited this long, can you be good and wait a bit longer?”</p><p>Minho pushes further into his side. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.”</p><p>Jisung has on his Jisung-typical leather jacket and ripped jeans. It’s a look Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of— at least nowhere in the near future.</p><p>He lets Jisung lead him down a stairwell and along a passage. It’s a bit cold down here, and Minho finds himself blessing his past self for choosing a chunky sweater before he left. </p><p>They arrive in front of a door at the end of the passage. It looks like any of the other entrances in the university, but the look Jisung gives him is enough to suggest otherwise. </p><p>Jisung pushes the door open. </p><p>“You brought me to—” Minho starts, looking around the big, empty space, paying particular attention to the set-up in the middle— “You brought me to a boxing ring.”</p><p>They’re the only people in the room and Minho gets the sense that he’d be able to hear his echo for hours if he yelled. </p><p>He doesn’t, though. </p><p>“I thought I’d get in a couple of rounds with the bag, let you watch for a bit.”</p><p>“I’d love to,” Minho says, “but, Jisung?” he asks, voice laced with confusion.</p><p>“Yes, princess?” Jisung has already set off to change into his workout clothing.</p><p>“Why’d you tell me to dress nice?”</p><p>Jisung laughs. “Is it a crime to want to see you all dressed up?” And then he’s away, the door to the locker room swinging shut behind him, leaving a blushy Minho to explore the gym.</p><p>He wonders if Jisung comes here a lot, whether just to think or to work out some frustration. He’s known for a while that he’s a boxer— rumours travel fast in the university community— most people know the circle of people involved and steer clear of them. </p><p>There’s also the whispers around illegal underground fights, but Minho doesn’t think Jisung’s involved in <em> that </em> in any way. Not <em> his </em>Jisung.</p><p>He’s snapped away from his thoughts. “I leave for five minutes,” Jisung says, wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist. “And here you are, thinking so loud I can hear you from the locker room.”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t mess around. He sits Minho down on the bench nearest to the ring and leans against the roping, wrapping his hands. “I know a good teahouse near here if you wanna head there after this?”</p><p>“That’d be nice, Sungie.” He notices the way Jisung’s eyes trace his uncovered neck. “I’d be down to go to a bar, though, if you’d prefer.”</p><p>“A bar on a Wednesday night?” Jisung quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who has work tomorrow.”</p><p>“Work in the afternoon,” he corrects, “and I have no classes.”</p><p>Jisung pushes away from the roping and closes the metre distance between them. He lifts Minho’s chin, forcing him to look up and meet his eyes. “Hmm,” he starts, wrapped knuckles grazing the skin of Minho’s jaw. “I’ll think about it.”</p><p>When Jisung gets into the ring, there’s nothing Minho can do to tear his eyes away— not with the way he moves like he was born to do nothing else and how nice his neck looks all marked up. It usually stays covered by the collar of his jacket, but the muscle tee he sports for training leaves little to Minho’s imagination.</p><p>He lifts a hand and brushes his fingertips over the pretty bruises on his own neck. He’d left them out in the open today, his big sweater not doing much to hide the marks. </p><p>Jisung begins circling the ring, eyes trained on the punching bag hanging from a long chain attached to the ceiling. Minho is mesmerised when he starts firing out punches, watching him land each one with practised precision. </p><p>It sends his heart beating out of his chest.</p><p>There’s something about the intensity that clouds Jisung’s gaze and the way it doesn’t fade when he looks over at Minho that turns his brain to jelly. He sits, watching Jisung move both powerfully and gracefully across the ring and wonders how he makes it look so effortless.</p><p>He’s snapped out of it by the man himself. </p><p>“Hyung?” he calls at first, leaning over the roping. “Princess~.”</p><p>That gets Minho’s attention. His eyes clear up, and he finds Jisung’s face about a foot away from his own, reaching for something on the bench. </p><p>“Can you pass me my water?” he asks sweetly. His blue hair falls in sweaty clumps over his forehead and Minho is confident that the look on anyone but Jisung would repulse him.</p><p>The bottle is cold against his hand, a contrast to the warmth of Jisung’s fingers as they brush his own when he’s handed the water. </p><p>It’s weird, feeling Jisung’s hands when they aren’t freezing. </p><p>He takes a big gulp, a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek and chest heaving. “I’m gonna go get washed up, hyung,” he says, lifting his body over the ropes. “Come with?”</p><p>They come out of the locker room an hour later, Jisung's arm wrapped around a flushed, red-lipped Minho, with plans to go to the teahouse.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ("I said I'd be fine with a club." "And I said you have work tomorrow." "In the afternoon!" "We can go out next weekend, baby.") </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It's a nice teahouse, Minho will give it that.</p><p>The energy is calming, hanging plants and big windows with a muted colour palette takes all the tension he'd been holding in his body and almost immediately dissipates.</p><p>“You come here a lot?” he asks as they find a table. </p><p>“It’s a good place to think,” Jisung says, “nice to write, too.”</p><p>Minho always forgets that Jisung is majoring in music. His whole personality seems to rest on his boxing, so much so that it slips Minho’s mind that he’s got a whole side to him that he just doesn’t know. </p><p>He wants to know.</p><p>“You don’t talk about writing much,” he starts, tentative.</p><p>Jisung looks glances down at the table for a second, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah…” he starts, “I—“</p><p>Minho backpedals. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to! Sorry for asking, I just—”</p><p>“It’s okay, Min,” Jisung reassures, taking his hand. “Really, it’s fine.”</p><p>“If you want to talk about something else, we can,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable…”</p><p>“You’re so sweet, baby, it’s okay.” He squeezes Minho’s hand. “I’m not as… I don’t know, confident about it as boxing?” he tries, words careful. “It’s easier to talk about boxing because, well, everyone knows about it.” </p><p>“So you just avoid talking about music, then?”</p><p>He’s tapping the palm of Minho’s hand. “People don’t usually ask about music.”</p><p>It all clicks into place.</p><p>“I understand,” he starts. “Well, I don't know what it’s like, but I get why it’s sensitive for you.”</p><p>Jisung looks at him with something in his eyes that Minho doesn't recognise. "Really?" </p><p>"Yeah, I get it." He squeezes back.</p><p>Jisung opens his mouth to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a waitress placing two menus on the table.</p><p>"Hi, welcome to our teahouse," she says. "I'll leave these with you and when you're ready just wave me over."</p><p>Minho nods and takes the card into his hand. "Thank you so much, we will."</p><p>"Let me know if you need anything." She winks at Jisung and walks back across the room to the counter.</p><p>Jisung puts his forehead on the table and lets out a groan. </p><p>"You know her?" Minho asks, playing nervously with the corner of the menu.</p><p>"Don't I just," Jisung laughs. "She's a good friend of mine."</p><p>"Ah," Minho says, "she seems nice."</p><p>"She's a demon," Jisung deadpans. "Loves teasing me— all of them do."</p><p>"All of them?"</p><p>"Don't look now, but she's got the whole gang lined up behind the counter." Minho has to stop himself from turning his head. "They're all gonna try to embarrass me, mark my words."</p><p>As if on cue, there's a commotion in the kitchen, a crash of metal and hushed scolding filling the air. Minho takes it that he's allowed to look now, and spots four women trying to get a look at the two of them inconspicuously.</p><p>Jisung shoots them a look of warning and they scurry off, pretending that they weren't watching the "show".</p><p>"There we go," he says, taking to weaving their fingers together again. "You alright?"</p><p>"All good," Minho says. "Now, what do you recommend?"</p><p>After three arguments about flavours and two about the hierarchy of tea, coffee and hot chocolate, Minho sips gently on a cup of jasmine from the pot they got to share.</p><p>"I still think tea trumps both hot chocolate <em> and </em>coffee," Jisung says.</p><p>"You're wrong; hot chocolate is clearly the superior beverage. I'm indifferent towards the other two."</p><p>"Take another sip of that tea and tell me you've had hot chocolate that makes you feel better than that." Jisung sits back in his chair with his arms crossed, looking as if he's won.</p><p>Minho sips the tea. "I need to take you to my hot chocolate place, babe, maybe convert you."</p><p>"I don't think so, princess," he says. "This is damn good tea."</p><p>"You're not wrong there." Minho lets the mug warm his hands. "But I'm still taking you out. It'll change you as a person." </p><p>"Somehow, I doubt that."</p><p>"Fine." Minho mimics Jisung's cocky position. "Don't believe me."</p><p>"You're about as intimidating as a kitten, you know that?" Jisung asks, biting back a smile.</p><p>Minho stiffens, blood rushing to his face. "Shut up," he says, putting his head in his hands to hide his blush. "I can be intimidating when I want to be."</p><p>"Oh really, <em> kitten?" </em> Jisung asks, "Go on, show me, then."</p><p>Minho pouts, avoiding his eyes. "I don't want to right now."</p><p>"Okay, baby," Jisung smiles. "Whatever you say."</p><p>"I do say!" he bangs his fist lightly on the table. "I can totally be intimidating. I’m really scary."</p><p>"I believe you, kitten." Jisung's tone says otherwise, but Minho knows he can't really win this one.</p><p>"Don't call me that," he grumbles. "You're teasing me."</p><p>"You're right." Jisung reaches over and pulls his hands away from his face. "I am, but you make it so <em> easy. </em>"</p><p>"How do I make it easy?" Minho whines. "I'm just minding my own business, and <em> you </em> come along and—"</p><p>"What? Make you all embarrassed? You're so cute; I can't help myself," he grins. "I'm sorry, baby, don't be mad at me.”</p><p>Minho lets him grovel for a moment, looking around the teahouse and contemplating his next move. The plants hanging from the ceiling are probably why Jisung likes coming here so often.</p><p>"Make it up to me."</p><p>"And how do you want me to do that?" Jisung leans forward on the table, chin cradled in his hand.</p><p>"'m not sure, Sungie," Minho says. "You're the creative one, aren't you?"</p><p>"You're gonna be the death of me."</p><p>Jisung calls for the bill.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"When do I get to meet him?" Changbin is lying on the floor of Minho's bedroom. </p><p>They'd been talking about Jisung, Changbin grilling Minho on him and why they'd been spending so much time together lately.</p><p>"I mean, it's been what? Three months? You're basically dating," he says absentmindedly, not registering the look of shock on Minho's face.</p><p>"We're not dating, though?" he says, voice pitching. "We're literally just friends."</p><p>"You're kidding."</p><p>When he doesn't get a response he scrambles to his feet and stares at Minho with a look akin to horror. "What do you <em> mean </em>you're just friends?!"</p><p>"Exactly that," he says. "What made you think we were dating?"</p><p>"Hyung, you kiss <em> all the time," </em> he starts, disbelief written across his face. "You go on dates, and you’re always together. Are you sure you're not dating?"</p><p>"Friends can kiss!" Minho says. "And I hang out with you and Jinnie all the time!"</p><p>"Your relationship with Jisung is <em> not </em>the same as your relationship with us." He sits back on the floor. "You're serious?"</p><p>"I swear, Bin," Minho says, "we're just friends that go on dates… and kiss a lot…"</p><p>Changbin massages his temples. "Kids these days."</p><p>"I'm older than you, brat!"</p><p>Minho throws a pillow at him, laughing as he deflects and tosses it back.</p><p>"Are you sure there's like, no connection at all?" </p><p>Minho sighs. "Of course there's a connection," he says. "We just haven't…we haven't made anything official. We aren't dating."</p><p>Changbin gives a long whistle. "Okay." </p><p>"Okay?"</p><p>"I trust you, hyung," he says. "As long as you're happy."</p><p>"I am happy, Binnie."</p><p>"That doesn't mean I won't beat him to a pulp if he hurts you." Changbin's typical protective tone returns. "I don't care what kind of boxing he does."</p><p>Minho laughs. "He won't, but thank you, Bin."</p><p>"You'd better be right."</p><p> </p><p>Minho is sprawled out on the couch when Changbin gets the call. </p><p>"Okay, yeah, stay put," he says into the receiver. "I'm coming; I’ll be there in ten."</p><p>Minho tilts his head, fluffy bangs falling into his eyes. </p><p>"Seungmin got real fucked up at the ring," he says, running a hand through his hair and eyes flashing with worry. "I've gotta go. I’m sorry about our movie night—"</p><p>Seungmin is Changbin's delightful boyfriend. A friend of Jisung's from the boxing team and one of the smartest people Minho has ever met.</p><p>Their schedules have never matched up to get Changbin to meet Jisung, but both he and Minho agree that they'd get along like a house on fire. Minho had briefly met Seungmin the same night he met Jisung when he’d gone looking for Changbin to do shots with him.</p><p>It's always a shock to his system to remember that Seungmin can be just as reckless as Jisung, and this time it's gotten him into some proper shit.</p><p>"I'll take you. I'm not letting you drive like this," Minho says, almost instantly.</p><p>Changbin nods, only half hearing him. "Yeah, okay, okay, thanks hyung."</p><p>"Of course, Bin." He puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Come, let's go. The ring on campus?"</p><p>"No, no, uhm," Changbin tries to gather his thoughts. "It's an underground one— don't look at me like that— a few blocks from here."</p><p>"I can't believe fucking Seungmin, of all people—" </p><p>"Don't get too brave," Changbin says, rushing out of the door ahead of Minho. "That was your boyfriend on the phone."</p><p> </p><p>Minho had really hoped Changbin was lying when he'd said it was Jisung that called.</p><p>"Are you <em> kidding </em> me?" he groans, worry laced with anger shaking through his voice. "I'm gonna fucking kill him."</p><p>"Hey," Changbin puts a hand on his arm. "You can kill him later. Right now he's holding up my boyfriend, so I'm gonna give him some brownie points."</p><p>Minho grumbles as he finds a parking spot, trying to release his association of fury with dark blue and tan gold. </p><p>As soon as the car is parked, Changbin is out, running towards them. The look on Jisung's face screams relief, but it falls when he sees Minho and his set jaw storming towards him.</p><p>"You'd better have a <em> damn good </em> explanation for this, Han Jisung," Minho says, grabbing him by his leather jacket.</p><p>"Hyung, it's not what you think—"</p><p>"You're coming back with us," he says, "and then we're gonna talk— oh my <em> god, </em> baby, look at your eye." He feels the rage coursing through him, but it's overridden by the concern he feels when he notices the early stages of bruising littering Jisung's face.</p><p>"Minho-hyung," Changbin calls, already at the car— "You can yell at Jisung when we're at my place, let's just get out of here!"</p><p>"Coming." He grabs Jisung's arm and pulls him towards the car. "Get in," he says, opening the passenger door.</p><p>Jisung is obedient, settling into the seat and putting on his seatbelt, watching Minho move to the driver's side. Changbin is in the back, Seungmin's head cradled in his lap.</p><p>"You must be Changbin," Jisung says, craning his head to look at them. "He's gonna be fine. I checked him before you got here— it's all superficial."</p><p>It doesn't do much for Changbin's outward worry, but Minho can feel the tension in the car thin out— well, as much as it can with Seungmin half-conscious.</p><p>It's a start. </p><p>Minho pulls out of the makeshift lot, keeping both hands firmly on the wheel. He hasn't looked at Jisung since before they got in the car, but he can <em> feel </em>his eyes on the side of his face.</p><p>He's furious, the fury building up behind his eyes, building into a splitting headache. Anger isn't something he particularly enjoys, and he <em> hates </em> that it's directed towards Jisung. </p><p>When he glances in the rear-view mirror he can see Changbin threading his fingers through his boyfriend's hair and whispering to him. He feels relief wash over him at the sight of Seungmin mumbling answers, eyes partially open. </p><p>He turns his head to Jisung and almost cries when he finds him staring back. His hair is messy, and his knuckles are already starting to bruise, but something about the way his eyes trace Minho's features takes his breath away.</p><p>"Focus on the road, baby," Jisung says. "We have plenty of time to talk later."</p><p>Minho nods, feeling more in control now that he knows Jisung is okay. "You scared the shit out of me."</p><p>Jisung's slowly-purpling hand comes to rest on his thigh, curling around and slightly bunching the loose fabric of his jeans. "I know, princess," he says, "I'm so sorry."</p><p>"We can talk about it when Seungmin is patched up." Minho pulls through the gate to Changbin's apartment parkade and directs the car into one of the visitor spaces. "For now, let's just make sure he's okay."</p><p>Getting Seungmin up the stairs is a challenge in itself.</p><p>Changbin’s building has an elevator, it’s just notoriously unreliable and they don’t have time to get stuck between floors. That leaves them to the mercy of the six flights of stairs to reach the apartment.</p><p> </p><p>Six floors aren’t all that bad when everyone is fully conscious.</p><p>Seungmin is half-conscious at best, and while carrying him would have been easier, he refuses to stay in Changbin’s arms. </p><p>By the time they get to the top, they’re all exhausted from taking turns holding his arm over their shoulders and lifting him step by step. Surprisingly— or not so much, when Minho thinks about it— Seungmin was calmest when draped over Jisung.</p><p>He had whispered something to him around halfway through the fourth floor and it had pulled him together almost entirely. Minho and Changbin left him to bear Seungmin’s weight from there until they reached the apartment.</p><p>Changbin takes Seungmin to the bathroom as soon as they get in to patch him up, leaving Minho and Jisung alone in the living room. </p><p>“Can I look at your eye?” Minho asks. He’s calmed a bit since they left the car, taking deep breaths to try and squash the worry and anger boiling on his gut.</p><p>Jisung nods, avoiding his eyes.</p><p>“Sit on the couch, baby,” Minho says, “I’m gonna grab the first aid kit from Changbin.”</p><p>He finds Changbin with Seungmin’s face in his hands. It feels like he’s intruding, but knocks on the doorframe despite his slight discomfort. “Hey, can I just get some shit for Jisung’s face?” he asks, glancing between them.</p><p>Changbin releases his boyfriend and tosses Minho the kit with a warm washcloth. </p><p>“Thanks, man,” he says, “Also, I think I’m gonna take him home once I've got him cleaned up.”</p><p>“Okay, hyung,” Changbin says. “Thank you for everything.”</p><p>“No need.” Minho gives him a tired smile. “I’m glad I could help.”</p><p>He heads back down the hallway, finding Jisung where he left him, legs folded underneath his body. </p><p>“You okay?” Minho asks, sitting down next to him. </p><p>“Oh, you’re back,” Jisung says. “Yeah, I’m good, princess, don’t worry.”</p><p>“Okay.” He lifts the washcloth. “Let me help you, then.”</p><p>It hurts him to see Jisung this subdued. He’s quiet as Minho cleans the blood off his lips and dresses the graze across his cheek. The warmth against his eye makes him wince and Minho has to pull back when he hisses at the touch. </p><p>They’re close, close enough for their breath to mingle and when he’s finished, he rests a hand on Jisung’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Tell me what happened, Sungie,” he says, voice gentle.</p><p>“I…” Jisung looks down at his hands. “He wasn’t meant to get that fucked up,” he says, “I wasn’t even gonna get in the ring tonight, but some dude challenged me, and you <em> know </em>I can’t say no to a fight and—”</p><p>“Why are you even involved in the underground shit?” Minho asks, voice pleading. “Seungmin got real hurt tonight, Sung, so did you.”</p><p>“Seungmin’s beat up, but he’s looked worse after a fight, trust me.”</p><p>“Not my point.” Minho really tries to keep the worry out of his voice, tries to soften it with understanding, but he can feel it bleeding through despite his efforts. “How long?”</p><p>Jisung tilts his head, processing the question. “About four years?” he says, although it sounds more like a question. “Since senior year.”</p><p>Minho inhales sharply. “Why?” he asks. “Why do you do it?”</p><p>He can see Jisung making an effort not to close himself off, but willpower alone can’t keep barriers down forever. “Minho I—”</p><p>“Oh,” he says, backpedalling a tiny bit. “Okay, we can give it a rest. For now.”</p><p>Jisung lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you, hyung.”</p><p>“We’re gonna go now,” he says. “You need to rest.”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll drive.”</p><p>“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m letting you get behind the wheel.” Minho may have calmed down to a gentle simmer, but he’s not quite ready to bicker with Jisung over something like who gets to drive.</p><p>His face contorts into a frown, forehead creasing. “You don’t know where I live, princess.”</p><p>“And you are perfectly capable of giving me directions.” Minho lifts his thumb to smooth out the space between his brows. “Don’t think I’ll immediately bend if you call me that.” </p><p>“It usually works.” Jisung shrugs. “But okay, you can drive— as long as you promise me one thing.”</p><p>“What’s that?” Minho tilts his head to one side.</p><p>“You’ll stay.”</p><p>“Oh.” Minho can feel the blood rushing to his face at the intensity of Jisung’s gaze. “Okay, if that’s— if that’s what you want.”</p><p>Jisung smiles and reaches forward to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “That’s my baby.”</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome, I guess,” Jisung says as he pushes open the door to his apartment. It’s around eleven at night when they get there and Minho is honestly ready to crawl straight into bed. </p><p>His place is nice. The colour scheme is pretty muted with vibrant red breaking the neutral tones. The most noticeable thing is the punching bag set up between the living room and the kitchenette, a testament to this really being Jisung’s apartment. </p><p>“You alright there, princess?” </p><p>Minho snaps out of his tired haze, looking up at Jisung. “All good,” he says. “Why don’t you go get yourself ready to sleep, Sungie, it’s late.”</p><p>“Okay, yeah,” he says. “Here, let me show you my room."</p><p>Minho follows him down the hallway, soft carpet plush under his sock-covered feet. Jisung doesn't have anything on the walls apart from the framed certificates centred around a display case filled with trophies.</p><p>He doesn't have much chance to absorb the awards, because Jisung opens a door and gestures inside. </p><p>"I'm gonna be just down the hall in the bathroom," he says, tapping his fingers against the doorframe. "Make yourself at home, if you need me, you know where to find me."</p><p>Minho nods and settles on the bed, legs folded under him. Jisung's room smells a little like vanilla and he looks around, spotting a candle on the bedside table. There's also a roll of film, a pile of candy wrappers and a bowl filled with guitar picks in various stages of use. </p><p>It's all <em> painfully </em>Jisung.</p><p>He shifts, feeling a little out of place on his own, but the energy of the room is calming, despite the small, nagging discomfort at the back of his throat.</p><p>Eventually, Minho decides he can't sit there waiting anymore. He's almost out the door when he bumps straight into Jisung's chest, sending him stumbling back before he grabs his waist to steady him.</p><p>“Easy, baby,” he says, rubbing soothing circles into Minho’s sides. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Minho takes a breath. “Nothing…” he places his hands on Jisung’s arms. “Was just coming to find you.”</p><p>“Well,” he says, tilting his head. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”</p><p>Minho nods. “Yeah,” he starts, “now it’s time for bed.”</p><p>Jisung releases his waist and Minho has to bite back a whine at the loss of contact. It’s embarrassing and he knows he’d be teased relentlessly if he told anyone, so he bites his tongue and follows Jisung to the bed. </p><p>“Which side do you usually sleep on?” Minho asks as Jisung pulls him down on top of him.</p><p>“I just kinda vibe in the middle,” he says, running a hand through Minho’s hair. “Are you fine with cuddling?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Then come here.” Jisung throws the blanket over Minho and pulls him to his chest. “You comfy?”</p><p>“Let me just—” he shuffles, tangling their legs. “There, that’s good.”</p><p>Jisung presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry I worried you.”</p><p>“Hold on.” Minho shifts up until they’re eye-to-eye. “I… you know I trust you, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Jisung wears a dejected expression. “I never want to hurt you— not with this and certainly not in any other way.”</p><p>“I worry because I care about you, Jisung,” he says, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. “And I hate to see you like this, it makes me sick to even <em> think </em>about anyone hurting you.”</p><p>“To be fair, I hurt them pretty bad, too.”</p><p>Minho shoves his shoulder. “You know what I mean,” he says. “I can’t do this without you.”</p><p>“Nothing bad’s gonna happen to me, hyung.” Jisung’s voice doesn’t waver. “I’m here. I’m with you. It’s all gonna be fine.”</p><p>Minho hides his face in Jisung’s neck and nods. “You promise?” he asks, mumbling just loud enough for the two of them. </p><p>“I can’t promise,” Jisung sighs, “but I’ll do everything I can to stay safe for you.”</p><p>It’s enough for Minho. “Thank you,” he says, brushing his lips against the skin of Jisung’s neck.</p><p>“Now, go to sleep, baby,” Jisung says. “Come, I’ve got you.”</p><p>It’s warm when Minho lets his eyes drift shut, warmer with their breath mingling in the space between them. “Night, Sungie.”</p><p>“Goodnight, princess.”</p><p> </p><p>Minho wakes up alone.  </p><p>He’s wrapped up in all the blankets, cocooned around him in a way that could only be intentional. He remembers coming home with Jisung and smiles to himself— some tiny, selfish part of him wants to fall asleep every night with him. </p><p>Pushing the thought aside, he frees himself from the restraints of the blankets and sits up. When he starts adjusting to being awake, he realises there’s something stuck to his forehead, restricting his sight.</p><p>He tugs on it, a light blue sticky note coming away in his hand. </p><p>
  <em> Good morning, princess!! </em>
</p><p><em> I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to wake you up, coach called in a last-minute session, said I couldn’t miss it. There’s breakfast in the microwave for you— you’ll have to excuse my frozen waffles— I’ll be more prepared next time you come over. </em> </p><p>
  <em> Okay, that’s it from me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Love, Jisung (a very sad Jisung that didn’t get to see his baby wake up) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S. you’re cute when you sleep </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.P.S. If you don’t have anywhere to be, I’ll be back around 10 </em>
</p><p>Minho rereads the note and smiles. Jisung surrounded his name with hearts and Minho really can’t be <em> this gone </em>for someone he’s not even dating. </p><p>Right. It’s easy to forget that they aren’t together, especially considering they’ve long since crossed the line between friends and lovers. He’s happy, though, if this is the best he can get then he can’t really feel sorry for himself — wrapped in Jisung’s covers and with a frozen waffle waiting for him isn’t the worst way to wake up.</p><p>He’s happy.</p><p>There’s about half an hour left before Jisung is meant to be home. He tucks the sticky note into his phone case and crawls out from under the covers, feet hitting the ground and knees immediately shooting back up to his chest.</p><p>The floor is <em> damn </em>cold— he can feel it through his socks— the whole room feels extra chilly now that he’s out of the cocoon Jisung wrapped him in. He tries his feet on the ground again and shuffles towards the closet, rubbing at his arms to try to warm himself up.</p><p>Minho digs through Jisung’s extensive hoodie collection, trying to find something thick enough to ward off the chill. He honestly can’t believe how cold it is, especially since he’s sure it was warmer last night. That could have just been Jisung, though.</p><p>He finds a dark green hoodie with little flowers embroidered onto the cuffs. It’s thick and heavy and the perfect fix for his problem, falling way past his hands and coming halfway down his thigh. He wonders how big it must be on Jisung and smiles to himself, imagining him absolutely dwarfed by it.</p><p>Once warm and cosy, he makes his way to the kitchen. Just as he’d been promised, there’s a frozen waffle waiting for him in the microwave. </p><p>Jisung had covered it in cling wrap, placing another sticky note for him on the plastic.</p><p>
  <em> You’re up now!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I hope you’ll be there when I get back. Genuinely upset that we didn’t get to wake up together but like I said, next time will be better. There’s tea in the cabinet next to the microwave (I haven’t gone shopping for a while so I don’t have hot chocolate (sorry baby)). </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ll see you later (maybe. hopefully.) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Love, Jisung (still grumpy) </em>
</p><p>He can picture Jisung writing the notes and smiling big and wide at the thought of Minho finding them. It’s cute. He’s cute.</p><p>Minho warms up his waffle in Jisung’s ridiculously complicated microwave oven and makes himself a cup of tea. He can’t help but be impressed by the collection, organised by their mood in different-coloured boxes. Again, he finds Jisung as cute as hell.</p><p>Curling up under the throw blanket on the couch, Minho eats his breakfast. For what it’s worth, Jisung’s microwave makes significantly better waffles than his, leaving the edges crispy and warming it evenly.</p><p>He’s in the middle of considering the pros and cons of replacing his microwave when he hears someone at the door. The sound of a duffel bag hitting the floor and a sigh from what could only be Jisung leaves Minho fighting off a smile.</p><p>“Princess?” Jisung calls hesitantly. “You still here?”</p><p>Minho turns and puts his chin on the back of the couch, grinning at Jisung. “Right here.”</p><p>He jumps up and crosses to where Jisung is standing, throwing his arms and legs around him. Hands immediately go to support Minho’s thighs and he stumbles back a bit in surprise. </p><p>“Missed you,” he mumbles into his neck.</p><p>Jisung laughs and presses a kiss against his shoulder. “Me too,” he says. “Did you find my notes?”</p><p>“Of course, I did.” His lips still brush softly against the skin below Jisung’s jaw. “You’re cute, you know that?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m the cute one?” Jisung laughs, carrying Minho to the couch and depositing him on the pillows. “What about you?”</p><p>Minho shifts on the couch and cranes his neck to look at him properly. “You heard me, you’re adorable.” </p><p>“I’m not the one giving me puppy eyes in the biggest hoodie I own.”</p><p>He pouts. "Okay, but I know you had that big dopey grin when you were writing them."</p><p>"What are you talking about?"</p><p>"That grin!" Minho points at Jisung's face. "That one, <em> right there." </em></p><p>"I don't know what you're talking about, princess." Jisung flops down next to Minho and pulls him into his lap. "You wanna go out tonight?"</p><p>"I'm always happy to go out with you, Sung."</p><p>Jisung thumbs at the fabric of the hoodie, enraptured by the way it hides Minho's figure until he finds it himself, hands wrapped tight around his waist. </p><p>"There's a new club up on main that we could check out?"</p><p>"Yeah, okay," Minho says, shifting on Jisung's thighs. "Can I borrow clothes?"</p><p>"We'll find something for you to wear." He's managed to hike up the hoodie enough to slip his hands against Minho's skin, finding the curve of his side like a second home. </p><p>"Jisung, wait." Minho places his hands on Jisung's cheeks. "Are you… are you sure you're okay to go out?"</p><p>"Of course I am, princess, I've had much worse than a black eye before, trust me."</p><p>Minho huffs and lets his fists fall to Jisung's chest. "I don't like the thought of people hurting you."</p><p>"Hey, you know I'd never let it get too bad." Jisung grabs Minho's chin and forces them eye-to-eye. "I've never lost, and I really don't plan on starting any time soon."</p><p>Minho makes a feeble attempt at escaping his grip but finds himself eventually melting in his hold. "Okay." He lifts a hand to Jisung's wrist and wraps his fingers around it. "I— yeah, I know."</p><p>"Good," Jisung says, pecking his lips. "My good baby."</p><p>He pushes forward to join their lips again, allowing his neck to give when Jisung accepts the kiss. </p><p>"Don't get yourself too worked up," Jisung mumbles against his lips. "You've got me all night, remember?"</p><p>Minho barely registers his words, moving from sliding their lips together to leaving pecks all over Jisung's face. </p><p>"Can I fix this for you?" He's looking attentively at the patchwork bruising that blooms from Jisung's temple to way below his eye. It looks more painful than it's worth, but Minho can't judge him— not like that.</p><p>Jisung offers up the side of his face, eager to feel Minho's soft lips and little puffs of breath against his skin. "Anything you want."</p><p>It's just as gentle as Jisung had anticipated. Minho takes his time, kissing the bruise as though he would break under him if he wasn't careful.</p><p>"Much better," Jisung breathes against Minho's lips when they meet again. "Thanks, princess."</p><p>"Of course." He smiles and pecks Jisung's nose. "What are we gonna do until we go?"</p><p>Jisung allows his fingers to dance slowly along Minho's side, revelling at the involuntary shiver that runs through his body. "I'm sure we can arrange something."</p><p>"You're so greasy," Minho laughs, "I think we should go somewhere."</p><p>"You don't just wanna stay here with me, princess?" Jisung asks, still intent on his own plan. "It would be just as fun…"</p><p>"I'm sure it would." He bounces in Jisung's lap and tugs the sleeves of the hoodie back over his hands. "Come on—" he drags it out. "I'll even pay."</p><p>Jisung's eyes light up at the prospect. "You haven't even told me where we're going."</p><p>"We're going for lunch, silly," he says. "I know a good sandwich place, I think you'll like it."</p><p>"If you're paying, I'm sure I'll enjoy it even more." He earns a shove and a soft giggle from Minho. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, you were right, this is a fucking brilliant sandwich.” </p><p>“Told you.” Minho sits in the booth next to Jisung, grinning as he watches him devour his lunch. “Careful, you’ll upset your stomach.” </p><p>“Don’t care.” Despite his words, Jisung slows down until he's finished, allowing his now empty hand to find Minho’s thigh. “Have I told you how much I love seeing you in my clothes?”</p><p>“You have,” Minho says, leg tensing under Jisung’s hand. “Quite a bit, actually.”</p><p>“I’ll say it again. I love seeing you in my clothes.”</p><p>Minho’s got on the same hoodie and a black snapback pulled lazily over his hair. It’s really not much, and he can’t for the life of him imagine why Jisung gets so <em> giddy </em> whenever he spots Minho fiddling with the soft fabric that hangs over his hands or when he watches him adjust the snapback.</p><p>“Stop looking at me like that."</p><p>"Make me." Jisung grins, challenge sparkling behind his eyes.</p><p>Minho splutters. "If we weren't in public now—"</p><p>"What would you do?" he asks, tightening his grip on Minho's inner thigh. "Really, I’m interested."</p><p>Minho is almost about to respond when they're interrupted by the bell to the restaurant. It's still pretty empty and he's about to go back to "conversing" with Jisung.</p><p>Well, he almost goes back before he sees who’s just walked in. </p><p>"Oh my god." He ducks his head and pulls Jisung down with him. </p><p>Jisung looks at him in confusion and tries to sit back up, stopped by Minho’s grip on his shirt. “What?” he mouths.</p><p>“Look,” Minho mouths back, pointing at the door. Jisung follows his finger and his eyes widen. </p><p>“No fucking way.” Hyunjin and Jeongin are being shown a table a few metres away from them, hands intertwined. “We need to leave, like right now.”</p><p>Minho agrees, keeping his eyes on them. As far as he’d known, Hyunjin and Jeongin haven’t spoken since the night he and Jisung met. </p><p>Well, there goes that assumption.</p><p>They don’t have time to think about their friends’ secret relationship, the only thing on Jisung’s mind is getting out of the restaurant before Jeongin spots him.</p><p>“What are we gonna do?” Minho asks, voice hushed. </p><p>Jisung sits up and looks around for their waitress, trying to wave her over without drawing any attention to himself. She spots him and hurries over with the bill, placing it in front of him with a smile and rushing off to serve another customer.</p><p>Minho snatches the bill from Jisung before he can begin filling it out. “Hey, I didn’t forget that I’m paying for this one.”</p><p>Jisung tugs it back in his direction. “Babe, just let me get it, it’ll be faster.”</p><p>“It’ll be faster if you stop arguing.”</p><p>Minho wins their battle, pulling the bill from Jisung’s hands and leans away, writing in the total out of his reach. When he’s done, he slides cash in and shuts the cover, looking up with a smug grin.</p><p>“Let me treat you sometimes,” he says, patting Jisung’s cheek. "Come on, we should get out of here before the traitors spot us.”</p><p>Jisung’s pout transforms into a smile, taking Minho’s hand and pulling him out of the booth. “Jeongin has <em> so much </em>explaining to do.”</p><p>Minho glances over his shoulder as they pass through the door, eyes widening when they meet Hyunjin’s. He composes himself, giving him a nod and letting Jisung drag him away.</p><p>“Jinnie saw me,” he says, lacing their fingers properly as Jisung leads him to the car.</p><p>He laughs and tugs Minho closer. “They better have a damn good reason for not telling us.”</p><p>“Damn right.”</p><p>“God, I can’t actually believe they’re back together,” Jisung says, leaning against the side of his car. “And he didn't even tell me!”</p><p>“I know!” Minho shares his playful outrage. “Honestly, after I practically <em> raised </em>him—”</p><p>“Jeongin and I are closer than <em> brothers </em>and he didn’t tell me! Unbelievable!” </p><p>Minho collapses against him, both of them shaking with laughter. He can’t help but notice how pretty Jisung’s laugh is, especially when he tries to compose himself but can’t hold back the giggles falling endlessly from his lips. </p><p>“They owe us an explanation.” Minho decides, putting on his best straight-face. “I’m going back to get my explanation.”</p><p>He’s half-out of Jisung’s arms when a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back. “Not so fast, princess,” Jisung says, still holding his arm captive. “Let’s let them have their moment, there’s plenty of time to interrogate them on Monday.”</p><p>Pouting, he lets Jisung get him into the car. “No fun.”</p><p>“You don’t think I’m fun?” he asks, settling into the driver’s seat. “Did I hear you correctly, baby?”</p><p>Something in his tone puts Minho on edge, but he ignores it in favour of a cheeky grin.</p><p>Jisung nods, tongue in cheek. “I get it, I understand,” he says, side-eyeing Minho.</p><p>“Don’t be upset, Jisungie,” Minho coos, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “I’m just kidding, you’re very fun.”</p><p>“No no,” he says, voice lilting, “it’s okay, my baby doesn’t think I’m fun, but it’s okay.”</p><p>Minho leans over and places his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. “Don’t be sad, look at me.” </p><p>Jisung tries to hold back a laugh when he turns his head and meets Minho’s pleading eyes. He fails, snorting and letting loud laughter fall from his lips.</p><p>Minho follows, throwing his head back. “There we go,” he says through their hysteria.</p><p>Jisung sobers up almost immediately, taking deep breaths to keep his humour at bay. “That doesn’t mean you win,” he grumbles, starting up the car. </p><p>“No, of course not,” Minho assures, the smile evident in his voice. </p><p>He grumbles again, muttering under his breath as he shifts the gear and pulls out of the parking space. </p><p>"If you're done being grumpy—"</p><p>"I'm not grumpy." Jisung's voice is a pitch higher than usual. </p><p>"If you're done being grumpy," Minho repeats, intertwining their fingers on the centre compartment, "Can we stop at my place to pick up some stuff for tonight?" </p><p>Jisung hums, hand releasing Minho's in favour of curling around his thigh and parting them, pulling one closer to him while he drives. </p><p>"What are you gonna wear?" </p><p>"Wouldn't you like to know?" Minho teases, letting out a breathless laugh as Jisung's hand tightens against his leg. "You'll see later, stop being like that."</p><p>Jisung matches his laughter but doesn't let up on his grip, massaging the soft flesh until they reach Minho's apartment building. </p><p>"I'll be back in ten," he says, leaning over to peck Jisung's lips. "Don't miss me too much."</p><p>Minho's crisis begins as soon as he's through his apartment door. He has absolutely no idea what he's going to wear, and the thought of Jisung waiting for him only heightens this frantic toss of clothes out of his dresser and onto the floor.</p><p>His fingers brush something at the back of the third drawer. Usually, he wouldn't think much of it, but the black fabric and ribbon call to him and he can't really say he has much choice when he tucks it into his bag. </p><p>Before he leaves he pads into the kitchen and fills the food and water bowls on the counter. Soonie winds herself around his ankles, tail flicking gently.</p><p>"I'll be back tomorrow, promise," he says, leaning down to scratch behind her ears. "Don't look at me like that.”</p><p>She's got her big, sparkly eyes on, practically begging him to cuddle up on the couch with her and watch movies, maybe let her knock a glass off the table. </p><p>"Tomorrow," he says again, voice firmer now. He’s not sure if Soonie’s the one he’s trying to convince anymore. "I promise."</p><p> </p><p>"You're trying to kill me." </p><p>Jisung finishes his shower expecting to find Minho only beginning to get himself dressed. He really hadn't anticipated him to be done with his outfit already and moved onto the floor in front of the full-length mirror.</p><p>"Do you like it?" he asks, not looking away from applying black liner to his eyes.</p><p>"You're wearing a corset." Jisung sits on the edge of the bed, trying to map out every inch of Minho's body with a greedy expression.</p><p>Minho laughs. "It's more of a waist-trainer," he says, "but yes, I'm wearing a corset."</p><p>Jisung's head is rather clouded by the urge to throw Minho against the wall, which inhibits his ability to form coherent thoughts. "Baby, you look so good."</p><p>Minho feels the heat rise to his face. "You're such a flirt," he says, "Come, get dressed, it's already eight."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles. "You're such a tease, hyung."</p><p>Minho doesn't answer, but smiles to himself, going back to brushing glitter under his eyes. </p><p>Meanwhile, Jisung digs through his closet for something to wear. He pulls out two pairs of pants and turns to Minho, a devilish grin splitting his face.</p><p>"Help me choose?" he says innocently, schooling his features into what he hopes looks genuine. </p><p>Minho turns, fanning his face to dry the setting spray and chokes when he sees what Jisung is holding.</p><p>"Absolutely not," he says, glaring at the leather pants as though they personally offend him. "No fucking way."</p><p>"Oh, but I think I will, baby," Jisung laughs, tossing the jeans back on the shelf. "They might be a bit tight, last time I wore them was in freshman year…"</p><p>Minho groans and puts his head in his hands. "I hate you, I really do."</p><p>"Sure you do, princess."</p><p>"I'm not kidding; you’re my enemy."</p><p>"I think you'll be saying otherwise when—" </p><p>"Shut up!" Minho throws his hairbrush at a snickering Jisung, who catches it and tosses it onto the bed.</p><p>"All I'm saying is that—" he's cut off once again, this time by a sharp glare. </p><p>The room is silent as Jisung pulls on his leather pants. He was right, they are tight, but surprisingly not as uncomfortable as he thought they'd be.</p><p>Minho avoids looking at his legs when he stands to face him, eyes off to the side as he approaches. </p><p>"Can you…" he turns his back to Jisung. "The lace-up bit, can you help me?"</p><p>Thick white ribbons are loosely woven into the eyelets on Minho's back, and Jisung can't keep his breath from hitching when he stands and reaches out to grab them.</p><p>"How tight?" he asks, toying with the length of satin between his fingers.</p><p>"Just go." Minho is already breathless. "I'll tell you when to stop."</p><p>"M'kay." He gives an experimental tug on both ribbons, watching Minho's waist practically disappear. "Is this fine?"</p><p>Minho hums. "Make sure the top part is tight, too," he says, a small gasp drawn from his lips as Jisung pulls further. "That should be good.”</p><p>"You want me to tie a bow?" </p><p>"Go ahead." Minho works to relax his breathing, but his heart skips a beat when he feels Jisung's warm breath on his neck. </p><p>"You look really good, princess," he whispers, tugging back on the velvet choker wrapped around Minho's neck and drinking in his soft whimper. "I shouldn't let you go out looking like this."</p><p>"You can't stop me." Minho's voice is strained. </p><p>"Is that a challenge?" </p><p>"Does everything have to be a competition with you?" he spins in Jisung's arms and moves closer, hands finding his shoulders.</p><p>Jisung hums and presses a kiss to his lips. "No, but it does make it all the more enjoyable."</p><p>"You just like playing with me."</p><p>"Oh?" Jisung tugs him closer by his hips. "Do I, now, princess?"</p><p>"You know you do." Minho's giggles are turned to a whine as Jisung captures his thin wrists in one hand. "Wait— you can't just <em> do </em>that."</p><p>Jisung laughs and backs him up against the mirror, pinning his already captive hands above him and grinning as he struggles.</p><p>"Let me go, baby," he whines again, eyes going big and glassy. "Come on; it’s not fair when you use your strength against me."</p><p>"You love it." Nevertheless, he releases his hold.</p><p>"Thank you." Minho's hands tentatively rest on his shoulders again.</p><p>Jisung is having way too much fun. "What if we just didn't go out?" he asks, tilting his head to one side.</p><p>"Nuh-uh," Minho says, "I spent way too long getting my eyeliner right for us not to go because you saw me in a corset." </p><p>"And you said <em> I'm </em>no fun."</p><p>"You're such a teenager." Minho leans forward and locks their lips, forcing Jisung to take it slow.</p><p>"Kissing me really isn't helping your case," he says, leaning his forehead against Minho's. "You do know that, right?"</p><p>"Our Uber's gonna be here soon," he laughs, trying to hide the shudder that runs through him when Jisung presses down on his hip. "Stop trying to get me to act up."</p><p>As if on cue, Minho’s phone pings and he gives Jisung a pointed look. “Let’s go, baby.”</p><p> </p><p>“You wanna go get us some drinks?" </p><p>They've just got past the bouncer and Minho can already feel the confidence rolling off of Jisung. "I'll pay for the next round." He continues dancing his fingers up Jisung's bare arm. </p><p>"Sure, princess," he says, "sit tight, I won't be too long."</p><p>Minho leans back into the plastic-covered pillows of the couch and watches Jisung’s retreating figure. </p><p>He's pretty sure that Jisung is going to jump him if he can't get his hands on him soon. While he can't say he'd hate it, Minho knows the alcohol is only going to serve as another reason to behave like teenagers in a place that's not exactly designed for them to fool around.</p><p>The couch is a far cry from the plush sofa in Jisung’s apartment, but it’s comfy enough to have him adequately settled, waiting for him to come back. </p><p>A presence to his right ruins his plans for sitting pretty in wait. He’s ready to ignore whoever it is, shifting further into the side of the couch to put some distance between them, but finds the man leaning into his space carelessly.</p><p>“What’s your name, pretty?” His hand is on Minho’s thigh before he can register it and he tenses, immediately uncomfortable under his touch.</p><p>“Uhm, sorry, I’m waiting for someone,” he says, trying to shift further away from him.</p><p>The man scoffs. “Sure, you are.” Minho can smell the alcohol on his breath. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”</p><p>He takes matters into his own hands, shoving the man’s hand off his thigh. “Please leave, or I will.” </p><p>“Don’t be like that,” he laughs. It sends a shiver down Minho’s spine. </p><p>Minho stands to leave, shrugging him off when he grabs at his wrist. “I said, <em> leave me alone.” </em></p><p>A string of curses follows him, but he can’t bring himself to care. The only thought on his mind is finding Jisung in the masses of people and everything is so loud and he’s being pushed around and then—</p><p>Hands are on his arms, stilling him as he gets to the bar.</p><p>“Hey, hey,” a soothing voice whispers into his ear. Jisung. “Hey, I’m here, you’re good. What’s wrong, baby?”</p><p>Minho feels all the tension bleed from his body. “Some dude was bothering me,” he says, feeling Jisung’s grip on his arms tighten. “Couldn’t sit there with him.”</p><p>“Shit, princess.” Jisung pulls him against his chest. “Where is he? I’ll kill him.”</p><p>“No, no,” Minho scrambles, “it’s fine. You’re here — it’s all fine now.”</p><p>“Do you want to leave?” he asks, bringing a hand up to stroke Minho’s cheek. “We can go if you’re uncomfortable.”</p><p>Minho leans into his touch. “It’s alright; we came here to have fun, I’m not gonna let some greasy old man ruin that.”</p><p>Jisung smiles and plants a kiss on his lips. “If you’re sure.”</p><p>“I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”</p><p>“Good.” Jisung grabs his wrist and drags him to the bar, where he’s handed two shots. “For you,” he says, placing one in Minho’s waiting hand.</p><p>“Thank you, babe.” Minho downs it. “Wanna dance?”</p><p>Jisung downs his own shot and shudders at the taste. He drops the glasses on the bar and lets his hands find Minho’s hips, tugging him close. </p><p>“I wasn’t lying earlier,” he whispers against his ear. “You look fucking incredible.”</p><p>Minho leads him to the dancefloor, ignoring his own reddening cheeks — he’s really not sure they’re only from the alcohol — and lets Jisung get his hands back on him.</p><p>“I’m glad you think so,” he breathes, arms looping around Jisung’s neck.</p><p>The music is heavy, reverberating through Minho’s chest and forcing him to sway his hips to the rhythm. Jisung’s hands are all over him, needy palms and desperate fingers trailing up and down his sides, gripping at his waist, ghosting along his ribs.</p><p>It’s perfect.</p><p>Their foreheads rest against each other and Minho can feel Jisung’s eyes on him every time they part. His gaze is enough for Minho to press their lips together needily, savouring the alcohol still present on his tongue.</p><p>Jisung pulls away from the kiss and grinds his hips forward, grinning as Minho’s eyes practically roll back.</p><p>“Come,” he says, “let’s get you another drink, princess.”</p><p>Minho follows Jisung, smiling lazily at the hand wrapped around his own wrist. When they get to the bar, he plants another kiss on Jisung’s waiting lips before letting him go so he can order. </p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p>“Surprise me.”</p><p>Jisung laughs. “If you say so.”</p><p>He ends up with a bottle in hand, cool against his fingertips and sweet on his tongue. </p><p>“Did you get me a fucking Sprite?” he asks, taking a sip.</p><p>“It’s not Sprite!” he exclaims, lifting up his own identical bottle and pointing at the label. “I promise, baby. Look, it’s five per cent alcohol.”</p><p>Minho hums, disbelief still written across his face. “This better get me drunk,” he grumbles, lifting it to his lips.</p><p>“Not too drunk,” Jisung says. “We still have to get home.”</p><p>“Don’t think about going home right now,” he responds, pressing closer. “It's not every day I get you all to myself like this."</p><p>Jisung's free hand toys with the ribbon of his corset in the curve of his lower back. “Still,” he says, “you’re not getting hammered, I’ve seen how you get.”</p><p>The night they met flashes across Minho’s mind. It’s all a little fuzzy around the edges, low, yellow lighting, the cool brick against his back. It’s enough to make him press closer to Jisung, chests flush together.</p><p>“Hmm.” He taps his lip. “I’m not sure I remember what you’re talking about, Sungie.”</p><p>“Oh really?” Jisung sees right through him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Minho says, “maybe you could remind me?”</p><p>Jisung hooks a finger under Minho’s choker and pulls him down until their lips are millimetres apart. “You could have just asked me to kiss you.”</p><p>“And where’s the fun in that?”</p><p>Minho feels Jisung release him and lift his hand further to gently drag his lower lip down. They’ve moved away from the bar and closer to the seated area, the plastic couches playing over in Minho’s mind. </p><p>He doesn’t mind them so much when he’s got Jisung’s arm around him.</p><p>The drink in his hand feels heavier and he pulls away to take a sip. The sugar is pleasant on his tongue, almost as though he could have four of them and not even notice the alcohol sinking in. It’s nice.</p><p>“You wanna sit, baby?” Jisung asks, fingers tapping at his side.</p><p>Minho nods, glancing away to look for a place for them. Unsurprisingly, there are way fewer people in the seated area than gathered around the bar or clogging up the dancefloor. “There’s a free couch over there.”</p><p>It’s Jisung’s turn to nod as he drags Minho by his wrist to the plastic-covered pillows. He sits, patting his lap with glittering eyes. “Come kiss me, princess, I know you want to.”</p><p>Minho ignores his teasing tone and accepts, placing a knee on either side of Jisung’s thighs and settling into his hold. “You see, this is what I’m talking about.”</p><p>“Oh?” Jisung tips the rest of his drink down his throat and leaves the bottle on the table next to them. His hands find Minho’s waist with practised ease. “And what’s that?”</p><p>Minho doesn’t answer, instead opting to lean in and plant his lips on Jisung’s, letting his arms snake around his neck. </p><p>It’s soft at first, Minho gently sliding their lips together. Jisung is just as sweet as he’d expected, lips carrying the sugar and the saccharine hint he always holds just below the surface. He’s addicted.</p><p>Jisung pulls away for a second, his pupils blown wide. “Look at you,” he says. “My pretty angel, hmm?”</p><p>He whines, trying to pull Jisung closer, but to no avail. “Sungie, <em> please </em>.”</p><p>“Behave.” He taps the inside of Minho’s thigh. “You can be patient, can't you?"</p><p>He feels himself burning up from the inside but immediately stops. "I'm patient, look," he says, his words a little slurred. Jisung can feel him straining to sit still, hands twisting into his shirt.</p><p>"I’m just teasing you, princess,” Jisung says, laughing at Minho’s sigh. “You’re perfect.”</p><p>Minho flushes, releasing Jisung’s shirt to hide behind his hands. “Sungie,” he whines, “stop.”</p><p>“Sorry, baby, I can’t help myself.” He leans up to connect their lips, smiling as Minho latches on needily.</p><p>Jisung’s brain turns to jelly every single time. He can’t get over the way Minho kisses him like he’s trying to convey some secret message, something he can’t say out loud.</p><p>He kisses Jisung like he’s trying to hold onto him, as though he’s sand slipping through the gaps in his fingers and he’s <em> desperate. </em> </p><p>It gets heated fast, Minho abandoning his drink to grab at soft blue hair. The heat coming off of him is almost tangible as Jisung kisses him stupid, his neck giving easily to the pressure. </p><p>He gasps as teeth scrape at his lip, a pretty noise drawn from his throat as Jisung bites down harder. The feeling gives him a strange sense of déja vù.</p><p>Minho pulls away, pressing his lips to Jisung’s neck and mouthing at his skin. He feels his thighs tense, fingers tightening on his waist enough for him to feel the stiff fabric of his corset digging into his sides. </p><p>A shuddering breath escapes him, warming the skin under Jisung’s jaw.</p><p>“God, hyung,” Jisung exhales. “Right there.”</p><p>It’s enough to make Minho smile as he soothes the mark with his tongue, letting himself get caught up in Jisung-Jisung-<em> Jisung </em> for as long as he possibly can. </p><p>He notices the softer noises Jisung makes as he falls apart and slips a hand down the back of his neck to curl into the nape, tugging gently. “And you said I’m the pretty one,” he whispers against his throat.</p><p>“I didn’t lie, did I?”</p><p>Minho sits back, putting all his weight on Jisung’s thighs. “Hmm, I still think you’re prettier.” </p><p>“Agree to disagree.” Jisung grabs his hips and pulls him closer, tugging him back down into another bruising kiss.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> do you also feel like you got hit by a bus? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> so much work </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> i haven’t slept in years </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> oh really?? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> is that so???? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> i just wanna see my princess &lt;///3 </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> instead i’m stuck writing this dumb essay </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> i know you’re writing an essay </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> we share performance history </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> you sit next to me </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> i just finished the essay the day after we got it </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> okay and??? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> i still miss you baby </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> i miss you too </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> can’t wait for hell week to be over </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> i could always come work at your place… </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> tempting </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> but i’ll distract you </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> and i know you’d much prefer to turn this assignment in on time </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> sigh </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> you’re right </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> i know i am </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> any chance i can convince you to come out with me this weekend? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> get your work done and we’ll see &lt;3 </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> will it help you if i come over?? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> genuinely asking </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> i’ll behave </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> promise </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> … </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> fuck it </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> i’ll be there in 10 </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> wait fr?!?!? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> YES </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> see you just now </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b> loser </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> you love me </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b> the door’s open </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Minho arrives in just over half an hour to Jisung pacing back and forth in front of the door.</p><p>“What’s got you all worked up— oh.” he’s surprised to find Jisung wrapping his arms around his waist and tucking his face into the crook of his neck. “What’s wrong, baby?”</p><p>“You said you’d be here in ten,” he mumbles, “I got worried.”</p><p>Minho strokes his shoulders gently. “Sorry, love,” he says, “I may have procrastinated getting off my bed for fifteen minutes and then… well…”</p><p>Jisung laughs, holding him closer. “It’s fine, don’t apologise, you didn’t do anything wrong.”</p><p>“I beg to differ, procrastinating coming over is definitely something wrong considering I very much would like to be here.”</p><p>Another laugh falls against Minho’s skin and he feels Jisung relax before he pulls away. He looks tired, round eyes drooping behind his glasses. </p><p>“What you looking at, princess?”</p><p>“You,” he says, lifting a hand to cup Jisung’s cheek. “When was the last time you ate?”</p><p>The amount of time he takes to think about it is enough to give Minho the answer he needs. </p><p>“Sungie,” he groans, taking his face into both hands. “Come, you work on your essay while I cook you something.” </p><p>Jisung nods slowly, letting Minho lead him to the kitchen table. “Thanks, hyung,” he says, glaring at his closed laptop. “Now I’ve just gotta write it.”</p><p>“At least you’ve started,” he says in a singsong voice, opening the fridge to find something to cook for Jisung. “You feel like fried rice?”</p><p>Another nod and a sleepy smile have Minho piling ingredients onto the counter and digging through the cabinets for a pan. He hums happily to himself when he finds one and sets it down on the stove plate nearest to him.</p><p>“Any vegetables you don’t want?” he asks, already chopping a carrot.</p><p>Jisung looks up. “Uhh, I don’t like cooked tomatoes.”</p><p>“Noted.” Minho tosses the tomato package back into the fridge drawer.</p><p>He cracks two eggs into the pan and spoons in the premade rice. “You know, it’s cheaper to cook your own rice.”</p><p>“Never learned how,” Jisung doesn’t look up this time.</p><p>Minho laughs. “I’ll teach you next time, then.”</p><p>He cooks in silence while Jisung types away at his essay. It’s an easy one, only a few pages. He just has to start it and it’ll be done before he knows it.</p><p>As the thought crosses his mind, Jisung raises his fists into the air with a cheer. “I’m finished! It’s over.”</p><p>“Good job, baby,” he says. “You’re just in time, too.” </p><p>Minho passes over a very full bowl of rice, watching Jisung’s tired eyes light up as he receives it. </p><p>“Thank you, hyung,” he says, “You’re the best.”</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>Minho goes back to the stove to clean up. He glances over at the sink, frowning at the dishes piled next to it and can’t help but feel worry rise in his chest.</p><p>“Oh…” Jisung’s voice is small as he follows Minho’s gaze. “You don’t have to do those, princess, don’t worry.”</p><p>He just hums and turns on the hot water, filling the basin. There aren’t as many dishes after he stacks them properly and starts working through them, warm water and soap suds swishing around his hands. </p><p>Jisung is silent while Minho cleans. It’s not uncomfortable, but something is hanging in the air that’s just slightly tense, enough to make his skin crawl.</p><p>Minho stacks the last cup on the drying rack and turns to him with a smile. “Do you have any more work?” he asks gently.</p><p>“The essay was the last thing.”</p><p>“M’kay,” he hums, drying his hands on his sweatpants. “Let’s go, then.”</p><p>Jisung yawns. “Where are we going?”</p><p>“You’re showering and then we’re gonna sleep.”</p><p>“Whatever you say, princess.”</p><p> </p><p>Minho takes it upon himself to clean Jisung’s room while he’s in the shower. He tosses all the garbage, picks up clothes, changes the sheets. By the time he’s done, the room looks completely different, something closer to what he’s used to seeing when he’s over.</p><p>He’s having a tough time processing how easily Jisung has been hiding all this from him. Something about the complete 180 he did from when they were texting to when he arrived just doesn’t feel right to him.</p><p>“Are you in here, princess— oh.” </p><p>Jisung stands in the doorway, bundled in a large yellow hoodie— Minho’s hoodie— taking in his now clean bedroom.</p><p>“You…” his eyes are glistening. “Minho-hyung…”</p><p>A single tear slips down his cheek and he holds eye-contact for what feels like an eternity.</p><p>The dam breaks.</p><p>Minho gasps and rushes over, falling to his knees in front of the pile of Jisung on the floor. He pulls him into his chest, arms wrapping around his shaking frame firmly and soothing whispers escaping his lips before he even realises it. </p><p>Jisung's fingers grasp at his sweatshirt, bunching the fabric underneath his hands as he grounds himself. Minho keeps mumbling, pressing his lips against his forehead and rubbing what he hopes are comforting circles into his back.</p><p>“Come, baby,” he mumbles, taking Jisung’s face into his hands. “Let’s go lie down. You must be exhausted.”</p><p>Jisung nods into his chest but makes no effort to move. His hands are still gripping at his shirt, eyes big and watery when he looks up. </p><p>Minho sighs and detangles their limbs, hooking his hands under Jisung’s thighs. He lifts him gently and lets him rest his dampened face against his neck. </p><p>Depositing him on the bed is easy when he’s too tired to make a fuss at being taken care of, as is pulling the blankets up to his neck and crawling in next to him. Jisung is motionless, sobs no longer wracking his body but rather a steady flow of silent tears as Minho tries to figure out what the hell he’s meant to do.</p><p>He settles on thumbing at Jisung’s plush cheeks, carefully wiping away the ever-present tear tracks. It doesn’t do much to soothe the shuddering breaths falling from his lips, but it’s a start.</p><p>“What’s going on, baby?” Minho asks softly. His heart breaks to see Jisung— <em> his </em>Jisung— hurting so much.</p><p>Jisung is silent but reaches for Minho, hands resuming their previous position on his shirt. He looks exhausted, crying only highlighting the dark circles under his eyes and Minho feels his heart shatter at the look he gives him.</p><p>“That’s okay, too, baby,” he sighs, laying his hand gently on Jisung’s face. “Rest for now, I’ve got you.”</p><p>The nod he gives is barely there before he’s shuffling closer, letting Minho wrap around him as he buries his face in the crook of his neck. </p><p>“I’ve got you,” Minho repeats, delicate fingers tracing shapes into Jisung’s back. “Sleep now, we’ll talk tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Two weeks later sees the end of the worst of their classes and a significantly better rested Jisung.</p><p>They haven’t spoken about his burnout yet, but Minho doesn’t want to push it, especially now that Jisung is closer to his normal self. Still, he can’t exactly find it comforting knowing that he could go down again with a slight push.</p><p>Whenever he thinks of it, he reminds himself that he trusts Jisung. He’ll come to him when he’s ready. For the time being, he’s just trying to support him as well as he can, and Minho knows that means giving him space when he needs it. </p><p>Space has never been hard for them, Minho loves seeing people that aren’t Jisung and he <em> knows </em> he feels the same.</p><p>It’s just hard when Jisung starts self-destructing. </p><p>Minho knows he’ll spend the rest of his life beating himself up over it, knows he should have recognised it sooner, even though, realistically, there was no real way for him to have known without seeing Jisung properly for weeks.</p><p>It’s still a punch to the gut when he gets the call from Seungmin.</p><p>He nearly forgets his shoes and barely pulls a jacket over his shoulders in his rush to get to his car. Seungmin’s words are the only thing he can hear, bouncing around his head in heavy, pounding thuds. </p><p>
  <em> “You have to get here, Jisung’s hurt, it’s really fucking bad Minho please come get him.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jisung’s hurt, it’s really fucking bad…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jisung’s hurt…” </em>
</p><p>He feels like there’s cotton in his ears as he slams the accelerator, hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel. It takes less than ten minutes to get there but he feels as though it takes hours, worry filling his mind.</p><p>Seungmin sounded stressed and that’s what freaked him out. Jisung’s told him before that they’ve seen each other at their worst, so he can’t even begin to comprehend how bad it must be for Seungmin to call <em> him </em>of all people.</p><p>Then again, he’s not sure what he’d do if Seungmin <em> hadn’t </em>called him, especially if Jisung is as badly hurt as he’d said.</p><p>He tries to still his mind and focus on not wrecking his car.</p><p> </p><p>He swerves into the alleyway, barely turning off the ignition before throwing himself out of the car, eyes wild as he searches for the familiar mop of blue hair.</p><p>There’s no one milling around along the grungy corridor, but Minho still feels uneasy. He’s always found it difficult to relax in the dark, but usually, he has a tattooed arm slung around his waist to protect him from prying eyes.</p><p>Jisung.</p><p>He whips his head around, trying to spot them through his clouded mind.</p><p>When he spots them, his face falls. Seungmin sits on the sidewalk with Jisung’s head cradled in his lap. The beginning of a bruise covers half of his face and he can’t imagine he’s much better under his clothes.</p><p>“Seungmin!” he yells, wincing at the way his voice falters. “What the fuck happened?”</p><p>“Thank god you’re here.” he watches Minho fall to the ground in front of them. “There were too many of them— Jisung, he—"</p><p>“Hey, breathe, I’m taking you to Changbin’s place,” Minho says, examining Seungmin's face for injuries. “I… I’ll figure out what to do with Jisung.”</p><p>Seungmin is silent, dejected as he helps Minho lug Jisung to the car. He's out like a light, not even a mumble or a murmur falling from his lips, even when they finally get him in the backseat.</p><p>"Shit, man," Minho says, noticing that Seungmin is on the verge of knocking out, too. "Get in, can't have you dying on me before I get you to Changbin."</p><p>He smiles weakly at the mention of his boyfriend. "He's gonna kill me when we get there, anyway."</p><p>"I don't know what happened, Seungmin, neither does he." Minho places a tentative hand on his shoulder, giving the most reassuring look he can muster. "He worries about you, just like I worry about Jisung."</p><p>"I'm so sorry, hyung." he looks into the car with a frown. "Jisung… he never picks fights. It wasn't him who started it."</p><p>"You're okay, Seungminnie." Minho withdraws his hand. "Now let's go, yeah? Both of you need your wounds treated."</p><p> </p><p>The drive to Changbin's isn't tense, but it reminds Minho of the first time they'd picked up Jisung and Seungmin after a fight. This time, though, he doesn't have his favourite boy to calm him down, to soothe him, and he really does have to stay strong until he's sure they're both okay.</p><p>"Here we are, Min," he says, pulling into the lot just as Changbin bursts through the elevator doors. </p><p>Seungmin thanks him and steps out of the car, but his nervous expression doesn't dissipate until Changbin reaches him and throws his arms around his shoulders. </p><p>He leans down to meet Minho at the window. </p><p>"Thank you, hyung," he whispers, his worry as evident as Minho had expected. "Are you sure you'll be alright patching him up?"</p><p>"I'll be fine, Bin," Minho says, "And Jisung will be, too." He aims that more at Seungmin, trying to lift at least some of the intense worry off of his shoulders. "Really, Jisung is strong, he'll be okay."</p><p>If his shaky voice gives away any of his fear, neither of them point it out and he's left to pull out of Changbin's parkade.</p><p>To begin dreading what will happen when he finally gets to look at Jisung.</p><p>Minho looks at him in the rearview mirror, taking in the dried blood on his lips and messy hair. He’s glad Seungmin called him but worry washes over him in waves. It’s hard to imagine how bad the fight must have been for him to be called in to help— then again, this wasn’t a match, this was a street fight. </p><p>He doesn’t know much about streetfighting, and he certainly didn’t think Jisung involved himself in that scene either. </p><p>It’s unnerving how little he knows about him.</p><p> </p><p>Swearing like a sailor, Minho manages to get Jisung up to his apartment. Unfortunately for the both of them, his building’s notoriously sketchy elevator is being repaired, so he’s forced to brave five flights of stairs with Jisung on his back. </p><p>Jisung had woken up at some point around the third floor, still dazed and definitely unable to walk, but certainly conscious. </p><p>“Come on, you lump,” he grunts, only barely getting the door open. “And you say <em> I’m </em>the princess.”</p><p>Jisung mumbles an almost incoherent, “you are a princess,” drawing a giggle from Minho. </p><p>“If you’re awake enough to crack jokes—” he starts, setting him down on the bed, “—can you be awake enough to not die while I get the first aid kit?”</p><p>There’s no physical response, but Jisung hums and holds his own body up when Minho pulls away from supporting him.</p><p>He takes this as enough of an answer to rush to the bathroom and pull out his medical supplies. When he returns, Jisung’s head is drooping, but he’s managed to stay upright in the twenty seconds Minho was gone.</p><p>“Jisung…” Minho wants to cry. “Oh baby, what have you gotten yourself into?” He lifts a hand to cup the side of his face that isn’t swollen and increasingly darkening. “Can hyung clean you up, Sungie?”</p><p>A gentle nod has him satisfied as he brushes the hair out of Jisung’s eyes. They’re drifting shut, although Minho can tell he’s desperately trying to keep them open.</p><p>He gets to work.</p><p>Silence ensues as he wipes at the blood with a warm cloth. Jisung’s breath occasionally hitches, but he’s quiet beyond the whimper when Minho presses down on the side of his face.</p><p>Minho feels awful, especially with Jisung in such a fragile state, both physically and emotionally. It’s not unusual for him to get roughed up, and while Minho has gotten used to the fights, he’s never seen Jisung so… defeated.</p><p>“Hyung,” Jisung mumbles, avoiding his eyes as he places a bandaid on his forehead. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Minho’s heart shatters and he has to hold himself back from holding Jisung as tight as he possibly can. Instead, he takes him into his arms gently and presses a kiss to the top of his head. </p><p>“Let me check the rest of your body and you can tell me what happened.” He’s already helping Jisung out of his shirt and wincing at the splotchy red marks across his torso. They’re going to be nasty bruises.</p><p>“We weren’t even fighting tonight.” Jisung’s voice is barely above a whisper. “They just… they came out of nowhere.”</p><p>Minho stays silent, rubbing light circles into Jisung’s side with his thumb in what he hopes is encouragement. </p><p>“I couldn’t protect Seungmin,” he says, “I couldn’t protect Seungmin and I got my fucking ass handed to me.”</p><p>“How many?” Minho whispers, unsure if he wants the answer.</p><p>Jisung sucks in a breath. “Six of them.”</p><p>“Baby, how could you think losing was your fault?”</p><p>Minho knows his eyes are glassy, but he’s also doing his best to hold it together for Jisung.</p><p>“I…” He’s on edge. “I should have been better, it’s the least I could have done for Seungmin.”</p><p>“Neither of you are at fault for this, Jisung.”</p><p>“I should have done better—”</p><p>Minho cuts him off by pulling him into his arms. “Absolutely not,” he says into his hair. “You were outnumbered, how could you expect yourself to take on six men?”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t respond, just puts a hand on Minho’s chest, feeling his heartbeat.</p><p>A sigh. “Come, Sungie, let’s get you into bed.”</p><p>They fall asleep with Jisung tucked into Minho’s side, delicately positioned so as to not aggravate his sore body. </p><p>He’s never felt the age between them before, but his head is reeling. It hits Minho that Jisung is still young, two years separating them, and while he’s known from the day Jisung sat down next to him in the lecture hall, there’s something different in <em> seeing </em>him so small, feeling him under the mask of arrogance he wears so well.</p><p>Vulnerable. He’s vulnerable and he’s letting Minho see him at his lowest. There’s something to that fact that hits Minho like a truck.</p><p>Maybe he doesn’t know Jisung as well as he’d thought he did, but he’s certainly got a whole hell of a lot more to unpack now.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Minho wakes up alone.</p><p>For a few seconds, it’s like every other day. He stretches, he looks around, he reaches for his phone as he always does.</p><p>Then he registers the cold space beside him and suddenly everything is a lot less normal. </p><p>“Jisung?” he calls, climbing out of bed and padding down the hallway of his apartment. “Sung, are you here?”</p><p>No answer.</p><p>He dashes back to his room and finds Jisung’s clothes gone, replaced by a neat pile of his own clothes on the dresser. Something inside him breaks just a little. He nervously approaches the stack of clothes and spots a blue sticky-note— Jisung’s sticky notes— on top of his sweatpants.</p><p>
  <em> Princess, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ll be back soon, I promise. I’m safe but I need to go for a bit. I’ll come back to you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Your Jisung. </em>
</p><p>His knees nearly give out as he reads and rereads the note, stopped only by a shaky hand on the edge of the dresser. Panic fills his brain to the brim and he just about collapses when he manages to shuffle over to the bed.</p><p>“No, no, no,” he mumbles, scrambling around to find his phone. </p><p>He tries Jisung’s phone twice, going straight to voicemail. On the verge of tears, he taps in Jeongin’s number and presses the phone to his ear, flinching at the dial tone.</p><p><em> “Hyung?” </em> Jeongin’s voice filters through the speaker. <em> “Hyung it’s 8 AM.” </em></p><p>“Is Jisung with you?” Minho’s voice catches on his name. “Jeongin, please, do you know where he is?”</p><p><em> “Hyung calm down—” </em>he hears mumbling on the other side, Jeongin cut off by whoever’s with him.</p><p><em> “Hey, Minho, I need you to take a breath for me.” </em>Hyunjin’s voice cuts through. If Minho wasn’t on the verge of passing out, he’d definitely be questioning why Hyunjin is with Jeongin.</p><p>Alas, his lungs betray him.</p><p>“Hyunjin, he— he left a note but he’s <em> gone.” </em> </p><p>
  <em> “We can worry about where Jisung is in a moment, but right now I need you to focus on calming down for me, can you do that?” </em>
</p><p>Minho nods as if they can see him. He doesn’t register Hyunjin asking Jeongin to get the car, only focusing on Jisung’s absence and how fucking terrified he is.</p><p>About twenty minutes of shaky breathing and Hyunjin speaking to him calmly, Minho feels a bit less like he’s about to die.</p><p>It’s an improvement.</p><p><em> “Can you walk, hyung?” </em>Hyunjin asks. Minho can tell he’s walking somewhere, but he’s not entirely sure where. </p><p>“I— I’m not sure.”</p><p><em> “Okay, that’s fine,” </em> he says, <em> “Stay where you are, I know where the spare key is.” </em></p><p>“What do you mean?” His question is answered for him by the distinctive creak of hinges and boots on the tiled floor. </p><p>He barely processes the fact that there are people in his house before he’s face to face with his best friend. Hyunjin’s eyes hold an unbelievable amount of sympathy and thinly-veiled rage at the sight of Minho with his knees to his chest on the unmade bed.</p><p>“Oh, baby…” he rushes forward, taking Minho into his arms immediately. “You’re okay, honey, it’s gonna be alright.”</p><p>He feels Hyunjin motion at Jeongin but isn’t sure what he’s doing. He can’t really bring himself to care as he trembles in Hyunjin’s hold, cheeks damp and squished against his chest.</p><p>“We’ll find him, hyung.” Hyunjin pets his hair gently. “Jeongin’s trying to call him now. I’ll get him to call Changbin and Seungmin, too.”</p><p>Minho nods into his shirt. Hyunjin has managed to migrate them up the bed until he’s at the mountain of pillows and carefully placing the blankets over the still-shaking ball of Minho.</p><p>“Don’t go, please,” he whispers. Maybe if he sticks close enough to Hyunjin, he can avoid the overwhelming scent of Jisung on his sheets. It’s futile, though, the smell of his honey conditioner lingering no matter how far away he gets.</p><p>Hyunjin’s hand finds his hair. “I’m just going to see if Jeongin’s had any luck. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Minho doesn’t want him to leave but he doesn’t really have a choice. He releases his grip on his wrist and twirls his fingers into the sheets instead, trying to stay as far away from the space Jisung can’t have been absent from for more than three hours.</p><p>“I’ll only be a minute.”</p><p>Then Minho is alone.</p><p>He hasn’t looked at his phone since they’d arrived. If he does, he knows he’ll find it completely void of messages from the one person he’d kill to hear from right now, so instead he lets his mind run rampant.</p><p>The one question bouncing around his head and setting off alarms in every direction is obvious:</p><p>Where did Jisung go?</p><p>Unfortunately for him, he has nothing to go off of. The only thing he knows is that Jisung will be back. He promised he’d be back and while Minho wants to yell and scream and cry until he can’t speak beyond a whisper, he knows Jisung has never, <em> ever </em> lied to him. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Minho skips his lectures for the next three days in favour of lying in bed with the curtains drawn. </p><p>Changbin and Hyunjin are in and out of his apartment, feeding the cats and making him food. He refuses to drink the tea they make him and he feels terribly dramatic but there’s nothing that will make the pit in his stomach dissipate.</p><p>Not until Jisung is back.</p><p>So he trudges on miserably through the days, leaving the house only for class and then crawling back into his bed. It’s easy to fall into the routine, especially with the stale air and darkened windows that make his apartment feel like a cave.</p><p>Occasionally he’ll manage to pull out his laptop and read his emails, ignoring the ones from his performance history professor because he’d drown if he stepped foot inside the lecture hall and saw his empty seat.</p><p>In a way, though, it’s easy to forget he’s crumbling when he calls out of work for a while, citing a personal emergency. That can’t last forever, though, after a week of stagnating in bed he lets Changbin drive him to the store so he still has vacation days to take.</p><p>It’s the hardest shift he’s ever done.</p><p>The weight on his bones has him nodding off on the counter before the bell rings and he’s snapped back to reality. He’s missed guessing people’s taste on slower days and offering the new arrivals.</p><p>Going home afterwards has him exhausted, but he also knows it’s good to see people and walls where Jisung doesn’t linger. </p><p>Trusting him is quite possibly the hardest thing Minho has ever had to do, especially with the extra stress of classes and how he yearns for his touch. It’s not something he’d ever prepared for.</p><p>For all their time together, Minho has some newly discovered attachment issues to work through. They’ll have to work on that when Jisung comes back.</p><p>If Jisung comes back.</p><p>In a luckier sense, though, at least he has Hyunjin and Changbin. </p><p>They really haven’t left him alone. His only problem is the sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind that tells him that their respective boyfriends know <em> exactly </em>where Jisung is. </p><p>He can’t control that, though, and he leaves them alone with that knowledge, knows they’d tell him if they could.</p><p>Still, it hurts.</p><p>Hyunjin helps him ease back into daily dance practice after a week of moving between the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. One of the downsides of not leaving his apartment for a week in the very unlikely case that just could come back is having a best friend that is personally offended by lack of movement.</p><p>Thus, they’re at the studio way more than he’s used to.</p><p>Minho has dance practice by himself on Fridays because Hyunjin doesn’t like leaving late for the weekends. Three weeks after Jisung’s departure, he finds himself ignoring the clock, allowing minutes to turn into hours as the same bass-boosted song hits him like a truck over and over again.</p><p>His sessions usually go until about five in the evening, leaving him enough time to catch the bus. Maintaining his bus card costs less than gas at the moment, so he’s not left with much choice.</p><p>On a regular Friday, he’ll catch the bus at 5:30 and be home by latest 6 o’clock. Today, though, he glances at the clock and almost trips over his own feet.</p><p>10:57.</p><p>He stumbles out of the studio at 11:09, hoping and praying to every being he knows that the buses are still running when he gets to the stop, but his luck has drawn thin since Jisung left, and no matter how fast he runs down the sidewalk, there’s none past nine on Fridays.</p><p>It feels like a defeat.</p><p>The winter chill has been setting in over the past few weeks and it bites through the shirt he’s wearing. He could have sworn it was so much warmer when he’d left his apartment in the morning, but the near-midnight wind is so much colder than he’d prepared for.</p><p>He wraps his arms around his body and begins his trek home. The street lamps don’t do much to help him, their dim, yellow light flickering, casting the sidewalk in a questionable-at-best glow.</p><p>The bag on his shoulder feels heavier the longer he walks. He curses his past self for choosing to stay off-campus in an apartment as opposed to the dorms. The extra space and privacy were definitely <em> not </em>worth the distance.</p><p>There’s a car coming down the empty road and pulls his bag closer, keeping his eyes on the ground. </p><p>It’s unnecessary, though.</p><p>“Minho?” a voice calls over the rumble of the engine. “Hyung, is that you?”</p><p>His head snaps up. He doesn’t want to believe the voice is familiar, no matter how much it feels like an immediate safety blanket in the cold evening. </p><p>“Jisung?” he responds, projecting his voice. “You… you’re back?”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He opens the passenger seat door. “Come, get in— it’s fucking freezing, baby.”</p><p>Minho doesn’t hesitate. He climbs in and is hit almost immediately with a wall of heat. </p><p>“There, that should warm you up a bit.” Jisung brushes the hair out of Minho’s face, hand lingering on his face. “God, you’re still frozen.” </p><p>“You’re back,” Minho mumbles to himself, trying to process blue hair and cold rings on warm skin against his cheek. He can’t really feel his fingers, but apart from that, he doesn’t really feel cold now that he’s in the car.</p><p>Jisung huffs and reaches back. “The heat should help, but here.” He pulls forward his leather jacket. “Put this on, at least until we get you home.”</p><p>Minho slips it on, letting the cuffs fall over his hands. “Thank you,” he says. “I can’t believe you’re here, where the hell have you been?”</p><p>His shoulders slump. “Don’t be mad at him,” he says, “I… I went to Seungmin’s parents’ farm.”</p><p>It takes Minho a moment to process. “You… you went to a farm? Why?”</p><p>Jisung blinks, dodging the question. “You’re not mad at Seungmin?”</p><p>“I figured at least one of them had to know,” Minho breathes. He’s trying really hard to connect everything in his head. “Can you tell me why?”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to leave you alone, hyung.”</p><p>Minho’s fragile anger shrinks as Jisung’s frame seems to, curling in on himself the more they talk. He hates being angry at him, and all the worry and panic forms into something he really didn’t expect after weeks of no contact.</p><p>Instead of yelling, he reaches out and intertwines their fingers. He knows his eyes are filling with tears at the contact, <em> feeling </em> Jisung with him for the first time in what feels like decades and <em> oh shit he’s in love with him. </em></p><p>The revelation sends his head spinning, but he pushes down his shock as Jisung tugs him into his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him like he’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t holding on with a vice grip.</p><p>“I missed you,” Jisung murmurs into his hair. “My princess.”</p><p>Minho sighs into his hold, being held— properly held— has him relaxing for the first time in weeks, and even though he has the weight of his own realisation sitting on his chest, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be.</p><p> </p><p>“Why were you on campus so late?”</p><p>“Dancing.” Minho fiddles with the sleeves of Jisung’s jacket. “Didn’t realise how late it was.”</p><p>Jisung hums. “You don’t usually dance this late.”</p><p>“It’s been easy to get lost without you waiting for me.”</p><p>He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s alright, Sungie,” Minho says, placing a small hand on Jisung’s thigh, his palm partially covered by the sleeve. “You wouldn’t have done it without a reason.”</p><p>“Still…” Jisung’s leg tenses every time he presses down on the pedal. “My reason didn’t justify leaving you.”</p><p>“And you can explain that to me when you’re ready. I understand that you aren’t right now.”</p><p>He doesn’t voice his appreciation, but Minho knows.</p><p>They sit in silence as Jisung rounds the corner to Minho’s apartment building. He hadn’t even realised they were so close. Hesitation fills him from head to toe.</p><p>“You shouldn’t walk home alone,” Jisung says softly. “It’s dangerous.”</p><p>“I know. You know I usually don’t.”</p><p>He feels Jisung begin to relax under his hand and tentatively moves his thumb, rubbing little circles into the skin left exposed by the rips in his jeans. </p><p>“I’m not gonna leave you again, princess.” Minho finds it funny that the nickname that used to irritate the living daylights out of him is now the source of immediate calm. “You call me, any time of day. I’ll be there.”</p><p>“I know.” Minho turns his head to look out the window. They’re pulling into the parkade. “Just… please don’t leave again.”</p><p>“I won’t, I swear to you,” Jisung says, putting his free hand over Minho’s. “Never again.”</p><p>They pull up outside Minho’s apartment block and sit in silence for a moment. Jisung is radiating nervous energy and Minho is almost certain he’s reciprocating with his own.</p><p>“Jisung?” he asks, turning to look at him.</p><p>"Yes, princess?" The smile he wears doesn't quite reach his eyes.</p><p>Minho launches himself over and pulls him into a hug. He tucks his face into the crook of Jisung's neck, feeling his hands slowly, hesitantly wrapping around his body. </p><p>"I missed you," he whispers, lips brushing against the skin of Jisung's jaw. "I missed you so much."</p><p>Jisung shivers at his touch and tightens his hold around him. "I know,” he starts, breath hitching as Minho traces circles into his shoulder where the tank top ends— "I missed you, too."</p><p>They stay like that for what feels like an eternity. Minho knows it's past midnight by now, the glowing digital clock on Jisung's dashboard flashes 00:13 and it's taking a toll on his body, leaving him feeling heavy in Jisung's arms.</p><p>"Come, baby," Jisung whispers, "it's time for you to get to bed."</p><p>"M'kay." Minho really is sleepy, but fear of letting Jisung go keeps him rooted in place. "Will you be alright to get home?" </p><p>"I'm not scared of the dark, I'll be fine."</p><p>"Alright." Minho winds himself out of Jisung's embrace and starts taking the jacket off. "Here's your—“</p><p>"Absolutely not," Jisung says, pulling it back over Minho's shoulders. "I'll get it from you tomorrow, it's cold out there."</p><p>"But then you're gonna be cold," Minho pouts.</p><p>"Better me than you."</p><p>The huff that Minho makes is enough to send Jisung into a bout of laughter. </p><p>"I don't want you to be cold," he says, crossing his arms. "It's your jacket."</p><p>Jisung tucks a finger under Minho's chin and guides him so they're eye to eye. "I'm gonna be fine, pouty baby," he says, hand not loosening, "And I can’t go anywhere without it, can I?"</p><p>The realisation dawns on Minho. He’s much less inclined to give it back now that he knows why Jisung is so insistent on him keeping it. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“One hundred per cent, baby,” he laughs. “Now, are you fine to get to your apartment by yourself?”</p><p>“I’m not a baby, Jisung,” Minho huffs, reaching to open the door. “You’re here. I’m invincible now.”</p><p>“You are a baby.” Jisung grabs Minho’s arm before he can pull the handle and tugs him flush against him. “You’re my baby.”</p><p>“Not true,” Minho says. “You can’t say that.”</p><p>Jisung presses a quick kiss against his lips. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”</p><p>He really meant it to be fast— one to get the pretty pout off Minho’s face— but he finds him lingering, hands pulling him in closer. </p><p>Making up for the lost time.</p><p>“Hey princess, relax,” he laughs against Minho’s lips, “I’m here, you have me.”</p><p>Minho hums, letting his neck give as Jisung takes back control of the kiss. “Would a baby do this?”</p><p>Jisung is about to respond— yes, a baby would do that— when Minho pushes off his seat and into Jisung’s lap. </p><p>“Oh?” he says, hands immediately going to Minho’s waist. “And what are you doing over here?”</p><p>“Wanted to be close to you,” he whines when Jisung’s fingers find their way under his shirt and press hard into his skin. </p><p>“Is that so?” he breathes. “You’re so impatient<em> , </em> baby.”</p><p>The way Minho looks at him should be illegal, eyes dark and glimmering, lips parted and letting out the prettiest sounds when Jisung finds the sensitive skin just below his waistline and presses with the tips of his fingers.</p><p>“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Minho asks. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, fucking kiss me already.”</p><p>Jisung delivers a soft slap to his thigh. “What are you so full of shit for?”</p><p>“Missed seeing you like this,” Minho mumbles. “Pretty.”</p><p>“You’re the pretty one.” Jisung moves one hand up to caress Minho’s cheek. “Look at you, even when you’re being a brat you’re beautiful.”</p><p>Minho blushes and leans forward, burying his face in the crook of Jisung’s neck. “Don’t do that,” he whines.</p><p>“Do what, princess?” Jisung’s voice is teasing and his grin only widens when Minho pushes further into his neck. “Don’t hide your face, let me see you.” </p><p>Minho tentatively lifts his head, avoiding Jisung’s eyes.</p><p>“What happened to all that confidence, hmm?” Jisung asks, trailing his knuckles under his chin. Minho’s breath hitches when he brushes his throat and Jisung’s eyes light up. “Oh?” he asks, pushing his thumb into the skin.</p><p>“Sungie,” Minho breathes, pupils blown. “Don’t wanna go by myself.”</p><p>He pauses his exploration of just how sensitive Minho will get under his touch to toy with him a little. “Just now you said you’d be fine,” he teases, tapping on the side of Minho’s face. “Is my baby too needy now?”</p><p>Minho is silent, still leaning into Jisung’s touch on his neck. </p><p>Jisung bounces his leg, surprising Minho and sending him scrambling to grab onto something. He settles for Jisung’s arms, hands wrapping tightly around his biceps.</p><p>“Come on, princess,” he hums, “tell me what you want.”</p><p>“Want you with me,” Minho says, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Please?”</p><p>“Well." Jisung's hand is still unforgiving against his neck. "How could I say no?”</p><p> </p><p>Getting out of the car is harder than it should be, requiring a lot of twisting to get Minho on his feet in one piece. The cold doesn’t seem as biting anymore.</p><p>“Carry me,” he says, throwing his arms and legs around Jisung.</p><p>“Easy there, princess,” he says, hands going to support Minho’s thighs. “You’ve still gotta show me where we’re going.”</p><p>“Fifth floor.” Minho hooks his chin over Jisung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you which apartment when we get there.”</p><p>Jisung nods, shifting Minho in his arms and smiling at the little noise he makes as he’s moved around. He can’t help but feel sad. He’s missed Minho’s warm weight in his arms with everything in him and it makes him want to cry— especially with how easily he hangs limp in his hold.</p><p>It’s not that far to the doors of the apartment block and it’s so much warmer inside the building than out. He gives a nod to the receptionist, who looks confused for a second but seems to recognise Minho in his arms and doesn’t give him a fight.</p><p>“You said the fifth floor?” Jisung asks, pressing the button to the elevator. </p><p>Minho hums into his neck, tracing patterns into his arm. </p><p>The elevator doors open with a ding. There’s no one inside, just the dull drone of music Jisung doesn’t care to recognise. He presses the button for the number five-button, shifting Minho again before pushing him against the mirrored wall.</p><p>“Will you stay?” Minho mumbles the question, not looking up. It means more than he intended it to.</p><p>“Of course I will— if you want me to, that is.”</p><p>He uses the leverage he has on Jisung’s neck to pull closer, pressing their chests tight together. “I do,” Minho whispers, the heat of his breath on Jisung’s ear is enough to make him shiver. “I really do.”</p><p>“You have me, then,” Jisung whispers back— It feels like a secret. </p><p>Minho giggles. “And I’m all yours,” he says, “but I think you already know that.”</p><p>“Oh?” Jisung presses his lips to Minho’s jaw. “Is that so?”</p><p>There’s nothing to it, really. Jisung enjoys how fast he can make Minho breathless, especially when he tips his head back and gasps, hands grabbing at Jisung’s shirt to try and ground himself.</p><p>The leather jacket has slipped off Minho’s shoulder, fabric pooling at his elbow and leaving more room for Jisung to attack his collarbones. </p><p>“I’ve missed seeing you in my clothes,” Jisung says against his skin. “My pretty boy.”</p><p>Minho keens at the praise, fisting at Jisung’s shirt. His eyes are glossy and his lips a raw, cherry red. “You know where I’d look better?” he asks, one hand moving up to wrap around the back of Jisung’s neck.</p><p>“Tell me, princess—”</p><p>Jisung is cut off by a loud metallic scraping sound.</p><p>And then they aren’t moving.</p><p>“Please tell me this is normal for your elevator and we’ll be moving again in a second,” Jisung says, eyes wide and apprehensive.</p><p>Minho shakes his head, mirroring Jisung’s expression. </p><p>“Let me down for a second,” he says, letting his legs fall from around Jisung’s waist. He crosses to the other side of the elevator and scans the buttons, eyes lighting up when he finds the emergency one. “I’m gonna ring for help.”</p><p>He presses the button and jumps back as a loud siren noise rings for a few seconds. It gives Jisung a fright, too, head shooting up from where he’s leaning against the wall. </p><p><em> “Hello?” </em> a static interrupted voice rings through the elevator, <em> “You’ve reached the Operations Department, how can I help you?” </em></p><p>“Hi, we’re stuck in the elevator between the—” Minho glances up at the little screen above the door— “fourth and fifth floor. Is there any chance you can come and get us out?”</p><p><em> “We’re putting in a call to the elevator company," </em> the man says. <em> “How many of you are there? Are there any injuries?” </em></p><p>“Two of us.” Minho looks over at Jisung. “No injuries, just want to get out.”</p><p><em> “That’s understandable,” </em> he says. <em> “We’ve gotten in touch with the company. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck for a good two hours before anyone can come to get you.” </em></p><p>Minho sighs and leans his forehead against the cool metal of the wall. “Alright, thanks, I’ll ring again if there’s any trouble.”</p><p><em> “Sit tight.” </em>And then there’s nothing but static from the line. </p><p>"You okay?" he asks. "You're jumpy all of a sudden."</p><p>"Not a fan of heights," Jisung responds, playing with his rings. "And it could have just been you… alone."</p><p>"Good thing I convinced you to come with me, then." Jisung examines him. He's still got the pretty pink flush across the bridge of his nose, blooming into his cheeks and the jacket still hangs off his shoulder, yet to be corrected. "Want a distraction?" </p><p>"God, <em> please </em>." Jisung laughs at the gasp pulled from Minho's lips when he grabs him.</p><p>"Where were we?" Minho asks, leaning into Jisung's touch.</p><p>Jisung hums, mouthing at his jaw. "If I recall correctly, princess, you were telling me where you'd look prettiest."</p><p>The noise Minho makes should be considered a crime. "I—" he starts, whimpering as Jisung's hand moves up to tug at his hair. "I'll be prettiest when you're done with me." </p><p>"Oh really?" Jisung asks, mouth brushing his ear. "Can you give me an example?"</p><p>Minho whines, trying to move away but is stopped by Jisung curling his fingers around honey-blonde strands. </p><p>"I can't believe how much you like this," Jisung says, pulling Minho's hair back further, leaving his neck completely exposed. </p><p>"Yeah, well," Minho starts, "What can I say? I missed you." </p><p>They stare at each other, Jisung's hand still pressed flat against Minho's scalp. He pulls his head back more, examining his raw lips and glossy eyes like they're his favourite view, one he'd like to see again and again.</p><p>It's not too far from the truth.</p><p>"You're a wreck, hyung," Jisung says, trailing a finger along his jawline. "You look so good."</p><p>"For you," Minho breathes, warm breath hitting the hand on his face. </p><p>Jisung's finger moves from underneath Minho's jaw to rest on his lower lip. He lets out the ghost of a laugh when they part and Minho looks at him from under his lashes, almost challenging him to move.</p><p>"Dangerous game, princess." Jisung moves Minho's lip under his finger. "There are cameras in here, behave yourself."</p><p>"Then we should stop," Minho sighs, letting out a little whimper when Jisung moves away. "Sorry to like… ruin the mood."</p><p>"You didn't ruin anything, baby," Jisung says, "we've got all the time in the world."</p><p>They both slip to the floor, leaning against the metal wall. Jisung rests his head on Minho's shoulder and sighs, playing with the chain around his neck.</p><p>"You alright?" Minho asks, lifting a hand to comb through blue hair.</p><p>Jisung sighs again. "Just tired," he says, "I was driving for a few hours before I picked you up."</p><p>"You can sleep, if you want," Minho says, patting his thigh. "I'll protect you."</p><p>Jisung snorts. "I might take you up on that."</p><p>"Come here." Minho pulls Jisung into his lap, smiling as he settles into his chest. "You want me to talk?" </p><p>"I will," he says, “You deserve to know what happened.”</p><p>“I told you that you don’t have to until you’re ready—”</p><p>Jisung cuts him off. “I’m ready, princess, you need to know.”</p><p>Minho doesn’t say anything, just strokes Jisung’s hair with one hand and rubs his shoulder with the other.</p><p>“Alright…” Jisung starts, “So to start off, I’m sorry you had to look after me after I got so fucked up. That wasn’t fair.”</p><p>“Jisung, looking after you isn’t a chore. Contrary to your belief, caring for you doesn’t tax me— it never has.”</p><p>He nods, releasing a shaky breath. “I already told you I was at Seungmin’s parents’ farm. They’re good people, let me help out with planting.”</p><p>Minho hums, not wanting to interrupt. He gives a squeeze to Jisung’s shoulder to let him know he’s listening, attentive.</p><p>“Basically,” Jisung says, “I went because of the fight. I couldn’t protect Seungmin from those fucking assholes— and Seungmin is damn good at fighting— so how could I…” he trails off, holding Minho closer.</p><p>“How could you what?”</p><p>“I just…” he sits up in Minho’s lap, looking him dead in the eye. “If I couldn’t protect Seungmin, how could I protect you?”</p><p>Minho gasps, tears filling his eyes. “Baby, Jisungie, you were up against six <em> men. </em> How could you expect to win in a fight like that?”</p><p>“I never lose,” Jisung mumbles.</p><p>“Yeah, you keep saying that, but is it really a loss if it was never a fair fight to begin with?” Minho cups his cheeks. “Leaving because you’re scared of not being able to protect me isn’t the way to get through something like this, baby.”</p><p>Jisung leans into his touch. “I know, I just… I really needed to go for a bit. I’m sorry for leaving you.”</p><p>“I’m telling you this because you’re important to me, Jisung,” he says. “You aren’t invincible, and as hot as your confidence is, you can’t win against six dudes. Please stop beating yourself up over it.”</p><p>“That’s what Seungmin’s mom has been telling me for the past three weeks.” He strokes Minho’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “It’s why I’m back. She convinced me.”</p><p>Minho sighs, leaning forward to connect their foreheads. “You’re everything to me, Jisung,” he says. “Please talk to me next time, don’t leave.”</p><p>Warm breath fans over his mouth as Jisung gets closer. “I won’t, princess,” he says. “I can’t do it again. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”</p><p>Their lips press together gently and Minho knows it’s all going to be fine, and <em> god </em>, there’s no one he trusts more than Jisung, even now. </p><p>The kiss doesn’t turn into something heavier as it usually does with them. Instead, Jisung handles him carefully, like he’s afraid Minho will shatter under his touch if he doesn’t treat him as though he’s delicate.</p><p>“Jisung.” Minho pulls away. “Come, you’re tired.”</p><p>He’s not lying. Jisung’s eyes are drooping and if the bags under his eyes have anything to say, it’s that he needs to call it a night.</p><p>“Come, sleep, baby," he mumbles, stroking Jisung's hair. "Let hyung take care of you for once." </p><p>"M'kay," Jisung mumbles, already growing heavier in Minho's arms.</p><p>"My turn to talk,” he starts. “Let me tell you what I’ve been up to lately."</p><p>"I know what you’ve been up to," Jisung mumbles.</p><p>“And how exactly would you know?”</p><p>“Seungmin…” Jisung’s tired voice is as deep as Minho remembers it to be. “He’s been asking Changbin.”</p><p>It takes him a moment to process. He doubts Changbin would tell Seungmin if he knew it was for Jisung. “You didn’t need to do that, baby.”</p><p>“Of course I did.” Jisung tries to look up at him, but Minho’s hand on his head gently keeps him leaning against his shoulder. “I wanted to, princess.”</p><p>Eventually, he hums, hand smoothing over Jisung’s hair. “There’s not much to know anyway, I didn’t leave my bed for much outside of school, work and dance.” </p><p>He tries to mask the weakness in his voice, the crack gives him away. Jisung shifts, but mercifully doesn’t push him on it.</p><p>“I thought Changbin was exaggerating when he said Hyunjin was the only thing getting you outside.”</p><p>“My cats too,” he says. “I couldn’t just let them starve.”</p><p>“I can’t wait to finally meet them,” Jisung says into his shoulder, voice thick with sleep. "I like cats."</p><p>"That's good, Sungie, I don't know what we would have done if you didn't," he laughs. "I've always wanted a bunny, though, but my parents wouldn’t let me get one when I was younger."</p><p>Jisung shifts, sleepily mumbling. "I'll get you all the bunnies in the world, princess, just you wait."</p><p>"That’s quite the promise, Jisungie.”</p><p>He laughs as Jisung starts to respond, but is too far gone to get out a coherent sentence. </p><p>"Go sleep now, baby," Minho whispers, pressing a kiss into his hair, "I’ve got you."</p><p> </p><p>Jisung wakes up in a foreign bed, in a room that certainly isn't his own. </p><p>He shoots up, looking around wildly for a possible indication of where the <em> hell </em>he is. The panic is short-lived, though, because he spots a picture frame on the bedside table of three boys.</p><p>Minho. </p><p>He's in Minho's bed.</p><p>It all starts to come back to him, agreeing to stay the night, getting stuck in the elevator, <em> falling asleep in Minho's lap. </em></p><p>He wants to chastise himself for that last one, it's against everything he's been building around his reputation for years— but it's Minho— and he can't really fault himself for being vulnerable with him, not when he's so caring, listens so well, makes such an effort for him.</p><p>Where is Minho?</p><p>He glances over at the other side of the bed, expecting to find someone there, but only finds crumpled sheets.</p><p>Maybe he's already woken up.</p><p>"Minho?" he calls, padding through the hallway in socks that he doesn't recognise— he wonders if Minho just did it to be considerate or if he feels uncomfortable when <em> he </em>doesn't wear them— "Are you through here?" </p><p>He gets to the living room and is only half-surprised to find his boy humming over the stove, spatula in hand. He's got on an oversized shirt, falling to his mid-thigh, and Jisung can't help but quietly move towards him, wrapping him in a back-hug.</p><p>"Oh!" Minho gives a small jump. "You're awake! I'm just making breakfast."</p><p>"Hi, princess," Jisung says. "Did you get me up here all by yourself last night?"</p><p>Minho hums, stirring the eggs in the pan. "You're surprisingly easy to move when you're not being a shit," he teases.</p><p>Jisung grabs his waist and spins him around. "Oh really?" he asks, pressing Minho into the counter. "You're lucky you're so cute."</p><p>"I know." Minho kisses his nose. "Now, why don't you get some plates out and let me finish these eggs?"</p><p>"Only because you asked so nicely." Jisung begins his search. "Where exactly can I find—"</p><p>"Cabinet above the toaster," Minho says. "Sorry, I forgot you don’t know where things are."</p><p>"Thanks." He finds them exactly where Minho said they would be and pulls out two with flowers painted around the edges. "Here you go."</p><p>"Alright, these are just about done," Minho says. "Coffee?"</p><p>"Please." He grabs one of the under-counter stools and settles, observing Minho.</p><p>It's quiet in the kitchen, only the sound of the coffee machine working and the eggs finishing filling the empty air. </p><p>That is until Jisung feels something fluffy trailing over his ankle.</p><p>He looks down to find a ginger cat weaving its way between the legs of the stool and feels his own eyes light up.</p><p>"I thought I was dreaming last night when you said I’d get to meet your cats," he says, reaching down to let it smell his hand.</p><p>"Oh!" Minho crosses around the counter and reaches for the cat. "This is Soonie! She's my oldest and will literally love you forever if you give her any semblance of attention."</p><p>He deposits Soonie in Jisung's arms and rushes out of the kitchen, returning a second later with arms full of ginger, white and grey.</p><p>"Doongie." He places the ginger and white cat on the counter. "Dori." She's smaller, a grey tabby.</p><p>"I would die for them," Jisung says, eyes wide. "Look at this baby!" he tickles a very pliant and content Soonie under her chin. "What a good girl."</p><p>Minho goes back to the stove and picks up the pan, dishing eggs onto the two plates. "She and Dori are angels," he says. "Unlike Doongie, my number one brat."</p><p>"She gets that from you," Jisung laughs, accepting the plate Minho slides across the counter. </p><p>"I don't know what you're talking about." Minho scowls, turning to the coffee machine to hide his blush. "She'll probably give you grief—"</p><p>He turns back with the coffee and almost drops the mugs to the ground when he sees Doongie settling into Jisung's lap. </p><p>"I don’t believe it," he says, setting the drinks down. "I can’t fucking believe it."</p><p>Jisung tilts his head innocently. "Is she not usually like this?" He's teasing, pushing Minho's buttons.</p><p>"Absolutely not." Minho passes Jisung his coffee and addresses Doongie. "You're a traitor, Doong, a traitor." </p><p>"Don't be mean," Jisung says. He places her gently on the floor and watches her pad off into the next room. "It's not her fault she likes me more."</p><p>"Eat your eggs, Jisung," Minho huffs with his arms crossed. </p><p>“Is my baby mad?” he asks through a mouthful of food. “Fuck, these are amazing.”</p><p>“I’m not mad,” he says— completely unconvincing— “and thank you, I try.”</p><p> </p><p>The lazy day they end up having was absolutely welcomed, even though it was completely unplanned.</p><p>Jisung finds out two things: One, he was right— Minho hates sleeping without socks— and two, movies with cats and a pretty boy are approximately three million times better than movies alone.  </p><p>The first comes when they’re on the couch and he notices Minho’s frilly socks with little cartoon cats running around his ankles.</p><p>He pokes them with his own sock-clad foot. “Cute,” he says. “You put socks on me last night, too?”</p><p>Minho blushes. “I can’t sleep without them…” he trails off. “Force of habit, I guess— I didn’t even think about it.”</p><p>“That’s cute, princess, you’re cute.” Jisung says, “I don’t mind.”</p><p>“You were so cute last night,” Minho teases, “talking about how you’re gonna get me <em> all </em> the bunnies in the <em> world.” </em></p><p>“Shut up!” Jisung throws a pillow at him. “I was tired.”</p><p>“Oh, I know,” he laughs, deflecting the play-attack Jisung launches at him, going straight to tickle his sides. “Truce! Truce!” he shrieks, trying to crawl away.</p><p>“What was that, baby?” Jisung asks, still digging his fingers into Minho’s ribs. “Keep going? Well, okay…”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Minho twists and turns, laughter falling from between his lips as he tries to fight back. </p><p>“Hmm, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet,” Jisung fake ponders. “What’s the magic word?”</p><p>“Jisungie,” Minho giggles, “please stop— ah! Please stop tickling me!”</p><p>Jisung sits back on his haunches, biting back a laugh when Minho scrambles up and raises his fists, as though to fight him. </p><p>“Ahh!” he says, feigning fright, “So scary!”</p><p>Minho huffs and pummels his arm lightly. “Good!” he says. “You should be scared of me.”</p><p>“Of course, baby, whatever you want.”</p><p> </p><p>The second part comes when they’re curled up with Soonie, Doongie and Dori, watching Whisper of the Heart. Minho is splayed out between Jisung’s legs, back pressed up against his chest.  </p><p>“Doongie is my favourite,” Jisung mumbles into Minho’s hair. “Don’t tell Soonie and Dori.”</p><p>“You’d be the first,” Minho laughs, clicking pause on the laptop. He lifts Doongie out in front of him and sways her body from side to side, an affectionate look painted over his features. “You’re not usually nice to people, are you Doong?”</p><p>As if in response, she uses her back paw to swat at Minho and make her escape, settling herself next to Jisung’s leg with her chin resting against his thigh.</p><p>“She literally never does that with anyone but me,” Minho says in disbelief. “I think you’re her favourite, too.”</p><p>Jisung just laughs, peppering kisses along the side of Minho’s face. “I’m stealing your cat,” he says. “Look away she’s coming with me.”</p><p>“Sure you are,” Minho responds. “Wait ‘till she starts trying to suffocate you in your sleep— you’ll be begging me to take her back.”</p><p>“I don’t think you’d do that to me,” Jisung says indignantly. He scratches under her chin and smiles softly at the way she purrs. “You wouldn’t do that to me Doongie, would you?”</p><p>“She absolutely would.”</p><p>“Nuh-uh,” Jisung says, “she just told me she’d <em> never </em>.”</p><p>“So you’re a brat <em> and </em>a liar, now, Doong?” Minho asks, running a hand over her back. </p><p>“You’re just mad she likes me better.”</p><p>"Am not," Minho says, "she can like whoever she wants."</p><p>"Whatever floats your boat, baby."</p><p>"Just put the movie back on."</p><p> </p><p>They end up watching all day. </p><p>Minho gets up at some point to make lunch— instant ramen really is a delicacy when you've been sitting in the same position for hours— leaving Jisung to play with the cats.</p><p>Soonie prefers to laze around on his lap, while Dori chases after the feather toy Minho had pressed into his hand before he went to find them some food. <em> ("She'll love you forever," he said, "and she'll play for hours if you let her.") </em></p><p>Doongie much prefers to side-eye him from where she's sprawled out in the sun. She watches Dori with something akin to disdain, like she struggles to understand the overwhelming enthusiasm. Jisung agrees.</p><p>When Minho comes back, he finds himself standing in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of him. Jisung has one hand petting Soonie and the other flicking the toy back and forth for Dori, making little clicking noises at her whenever she gets a hold of the feather at the end of the string.</p><p>Minho thinks he might actually combust and how soft he looks, seeing Jisung without the layers of arrogance and embellishing isn’t something he’s entirely used to— he wants to savour it.</p><p>"You're back," Jisung says, looking up at him. "I'm definitely taking them home with me." </p><p>"Here's your lunch," Minho laughs, sitting cross-legged in front of him. "Will you leave them long enough to actually eat?"</p><p>"That's a tough decision, princess." Jisung’s voice is laced with laughter. "But since you asked so nicely, I have no choice."</p><p>He sets down the toy and scoops Soonie off of his lap. "No, don't look at me like that," he says disdainfully when they give him matching wounded looks. "I'm trying to eat with my boy! You can come back when we're finished!"</p><p>"This is why they're brats, Sung," Minho says, giving his thigh a comforting pat. "They're gonna go sulk now and act like the world hates them and then come back and knock my glass off the table, it's a routine."</p><p>"I'm heartbroken," Jisung fake sobs. "They'll never love me again."</p><p>"Shut up and eat your lunch."</p><p>"Do we get to have snacks this time?" he asks, giving Minho a cheeky look and receiving the shove dutifully. </p><p>"I already told you, I don't have any!" </p><p>"We're going to the convenience store, then," Jisung says, making the decision. "No arguments, I can't watch anything more without sour candy."</p><p>"Fine," Minho huffs, "but you're paying."</p><p> </p><p>Jisung knows Minho’s favourite candy and it’s absolutely infuriating.</p><p>It’s the subtlety of it, the little knowledge and Minho cannot for the life of him remember telling Jisung that strawberry and cream jellies are his favourite, but alas, he tosses them into the basket as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.</p><p>Rage.</p><p>“How did you know?” he asks, voice just above a dramatically horrified whisper. “No one likes those— how did you know?”</p><p>Jisung doesn’t respond, sending him a cheeky wink as he throws in a bag of sour worms for himself. </p><p>“Jisung, I’m not kidding— how did you know?” Minho is genuinely baffled. </p><p>“Minho you fucking love these things,” he says as he pulls a party-sized bag of apple and honey chips off of the shelf. “You <em> always </em> have them.”</p><p>“I…” Minho starts, “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”</p><p>“I notice lots of things about you, princess.”</p><p>Minho shoves him, sending him stumbling forward with a laugh. </p><p>“It’s candy.” He really does sound like he’s trying to justify it to himself more than Jisung. “It’s just candy.”</p><p>“Sure it is,” Jisung says, unconvincing. He has to duck to avoid the mock punch thrown at him. “Ah, baby, I just pay attention to you.” He pats Minho’s cheek. “It’s not that obvious.”</p><p>Minho doesn’t think it’s a good answer and Jisung knows it, but he huffs and accepts anyway, opting to turn and pull a pack of eight strawberry milk cartons out of the cooler. </p><p>“You prefer banana,” Jisung points out.</p><p>“And you’re not the only one that pays attention.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. i've showered five times today and i really do think i've got what you're searching for</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span class="small"><b>tw:</b> violence aftermath (see: blood, bruising), anxiety, alcohol consumption, smoking.</span>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jisung’s birthday week rolls around and Minho is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hellbent</span>
  </em>
  <span> on making it perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s spent two months planning after Jisung mentioned off-hand that he’d never been to an amusement park. To say Minho was appalled would be an understatement.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Never?” the noise that comes out of Minho’s mouth is barely human. “Not even like, on a school trip?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your school went to Lotte World?” It’s Jisung’s turn to look offended. “What the fuck? We went to the damn museum!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Minho laughs. “I’m taking you, that’s it, it’s settled already. No arguments.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s almost certain that Jisung has already forgotten about the conversation, leaving Minho to formulate the perfect birthday that will hopefully make up for the fifth-grade museum trip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only problem is that Jisung remembers everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho has to give him some credit— even though he knows that Jisung has him figured out from the moment he turns up at his apartment at six in the morning on his birthday, he pretends he doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Minho’s sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, baby,” he says, throwing his arms around Jisung’s neck. “We’ve got lots to do today! That’s why I’m here so early— oh my god, I woke you up at 6 AM on your birthday!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughs, running his hands up and down Minho’s sides. “Princess, it’s fine,” he says, “You should have just come over last night, we could have slept in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho presses a quick kiss to his lips. “You can still sleep in. Kind of. Go get back into bed, I’ll make you breakfast.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, baby, you don’t have to—” the argument dies on his lips at the threatening glare Minho gives him. “Okay, I’m going, but you really don’t have to, we could just go out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re already going out,” Minho says, “It’s your birthday, let me do nice things for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung kisses him again, unable to keep the smile off of his face. “I’m going, I’m going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kitchen is the same as he remembers it from all the other times he’s cooked for Jisung. It also seems as though someone— certainly not Jisung— has stocked his fridge with food from the nicer grocery store downtown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll ask about it later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, he’s got seafood pancakes on the stove and is putting on a pot of rice— real jasmine rice, as opposed to the premade shit Jisung usually buys. He still hasn’t taught him to cook it yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s for another day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once everything is prepared, including the container of fresh dumplings he’d made the night before, Minho begins piling everything onto two plates. It’s much more extravagant than their usual frozen breakfast goods, but it’s Jisung’s birthday, so it’s definitely justified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds the tray with both hands, carefully carrying it through to Jisung’s room. Unlike his own apartment, there aren’t random obstacles all over the floor which makes it significantly easier to avoid tripping on his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your majesty,” he announces, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “The kitchens have prepared you a meal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung looks up from his phone, a light flicking on behind his eyes when he spots the tray. “I think you’re my favourite person in the whole world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure would hope so, I made you dumplings.” He hands Jisung a mug of tea— the expensive one he’d caught him eyeing for weeks now— and a plate stacked with food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, princess,” he says, “Come eat with me— oh my god you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho had looked away for a second and was confused at what Jisung is referring to until he realises it’s the tea. “Oh, yeah.” he rubs the back of his neck. “I got you a box of it, you’ve been wanting it for a while so I thought—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfect, hyung,” Jisung says, grabbing his hand, “Oh, I can’t wait to put it in my happy tea box, this is great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you like it,” Minho says, “Now eat your breakfast, we’ve got a long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This looks so fucking good,” Jisung groans, eyes lit up as he picks up his chopsticks and tries to decide where to start. “Did you really make the dumplings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From scratch.” Minho watches Jisung shove one in his mouth. “You like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nods enthusiastically, cheeks full as he chews. “I could live off of those and nothing else for the rest of my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s a compliment,” Minho laughs, “Come on, eat up. I’ve got so much planned.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung knows they’re going to Lotte World. He has since Minho showed up, but he’s also very good at pretending he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho,” he whines, grabbing onto his arm, “Just tell me where we’re going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been planning this for ages, you can wait a bit longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung falls back into his chair and huffs. He knows that if he can get Minho to tell him, he won’t have to keep feigning obliviousness, but he’s not budging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Princess,” he tries again, moving his hand to curl around Minho’s thigh. “Don’t you wanna tell me, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not while I’m driving, Jisung,” he says, although he doesn’t swat the hand away. “Stop being impatient, we’re like twenty minutes away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another huff, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he traces patterns into Minho’s inner thigh, feeling him relax under his touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Minho starts, “I was meaning to ask, who got you groceries?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughs. “Seungmin gets me food I like for my birthday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was a bit confused when I found actual food instead of your beer stash and like, four carrots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” he’s indignant. “I always have vegetables in my fridge!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know, I am extremely healthy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you are, Sungie,” Minho laughs, “But it’s nice that Seungmin gets you good groceries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he stocks me up for two weeks every year. It’s heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.” With that, Minho points at something in the distance and Jisung really does do his best to sound surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasps and turns to Minho eyes shining with excitement, and as much as he’d known exactly where they’re going, he’s still never been to any sort of amusement park and he’s practically shaking in anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re taking me on </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s busier than Minho thought it would be, people rushing around to different attractions as he pulls Jisung through the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I put together an itinerary,” he says, “And I got us full access, so we can go do all the rides in the outside park and then come back inside when it starts getting hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nods along, letting Minho explain the plans. He doesn’t mean for his attention to drift, but when a stand of themed-goods catches his eye, he can’t stop himself from pointing it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung,” he starts, pointing at the stand, “Can we get headbands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighs, a fond smile gracing his features as Jisung drags him in its direction. “You’re so lucky it’s your birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung gives him a cheeky smile. “I know, I know.” he picks out a pair of cat ears and settles them on Minho’s head. “You’re cute, kitten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blushes and shoves Jisung’s shoulder, turning to the stand to look for one that will suit him. “Don’t call me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my birthday, though.” he grins at the squirrel headband Minho picks out. “Just this once?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho grumbles and messes with Jisung’s bangs. “Wouldn’t it be funnier if I wore these, though?” he replaces the ears with a giraffe headband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The face he pulls is enough to pull laughter from Jisung. “You’re right, princess, those are hilarious,” he teases, lacing their fingers together. “Let’s get them, and then you can tell me everything I need to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minho is scared of heights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung knows that he’s scared of heights. Minho knows that Jisung knows that he’s scared of heights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he braves just about every ride Jisung wants, barring the Gyro Drop that both of them decide is a little too much. The fear only begins taking its toll on him when Jisung asks if they can leave the Ferris Wheel until later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to ride it when the sun goes down,” he says, eyeing the queue. “We can come back out later, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho waves his wrist, showing off the mint-coloured band for access to the whole park. “If that’s what you want, Sungie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is!” he grabs Minho’s hand. “Now come, kitten, we’ve got so much left to explore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flushes, letting Jisung drag him back towards the inside part of the amusement park. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look! they’ve got a photo booth!” Jisung says, pulling him inside. “I’m paying for this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” Minho knocks his hand away from where he’s reaching for his wallet. “I’m treating </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung grumbles, his face drawn into a pout. “It’s not even that much, princess,” he says, clearly defeated as Minho pushes the coins into the slot. “I’m paying for lunch, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho just giggles and presses the button to start the camera. “Pose, Jisungie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last photo rolls around and Jisung turns to Minho, tapping his lips expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you want a kiss?” Minho teases, “I don’t know, Jisung—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s cut off by Jisung’s characteristic impatience, grabbing his jaw and seaming their lips together as the camera goes off. It’s short and despite Minho teasing, he chases Jisung’s lips when they part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now who’s the one wanting a kiss,” Jisung says, pulling the curtain back. “Come, there are other people waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk around for a bit longer, Minho’s gaze landing on the claw machines. “I bet I can win you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung scoffs. “Aren’t those things rigged?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve gotten a plushie out of one before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how long ago was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho pointedly ignores him, already marching towards them. “Pick a prize, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so, princess,” he says, “Hmm, I’ll take this one.” He points at the Pokémon-themed machine. “The Espeon plush at the back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung notices Minho visibly pale at the distance of the toy. “Alright, yeah I can totally do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After seventeen tries on the machine, Minho is banging his head against the glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Princess, it’s fine if you can’t do it, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s your birthday, I can do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung puts his hand over Minho’s on the controller. “Baby, give it a rest, there’s so much else we can do that doesn’t involve you getting frustrated over a stuffed Pokémon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more try?” Minho asks, putting on his best puppy eyes. “One more and then we’ll go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighs fondly. “Alright, silly thing, one more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a kiss for good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plants a kiss on Minho’s cheek, making a big smacking sound with his lips. “You can do it, princess, I believe in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he starts the game for the eighteenth and final time. He’s more concentrated than he’s ever been in his entire life, eyes fixed on the light purple plush that’s escaped his grasp for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is mumbling encouragement next to him, but Minho can’t hear him. All he knows is that one second he presses the button, and the next Jisung is cheering in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did it, baby!” he throws his arms around Minho’s neck. “You really did it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is confused, looking between the machine and Jisung as he pulls the purple plushie out of the collection zone. “I did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, baby,” Jisung says, “Look how cute he is!” he holds up the Espeon in front of them, a massive grin on his face. “I’m going to cherish him forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A laugh. “I can’t fucking believe all you had to do was kiss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the luckiest person in the world, princess,” he says, “I bet I could get you that giant cat plush in one go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho tries to steer him away from the row of machines, but Jisung has already made up his mind. “It’s your birthday, Jisungie, you can’t get </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> something on </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I can,” Jisung says indignantly, “It’s my birthday, I make the rules, and right now the rules say I’m allowed to win my baby a toy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gets it on the first try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking insufferable, Jisung,” Minho says. He’s got the cat pressed to his chest and god, it’s stupidly large, large enough to make it difficult for them to manoeuvre their way through the crowd without knocking people with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several bumped shoulders and cold looks from other amusement park-goers, Jisung pipes up with a suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we should get food,” he says, “You hungry yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nods, following the sign pointing towards the food court. “What do you feel like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is incredibly indecisive, tugging him in every direction until they settle on burgers and shakes from a store in the centre of the court.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve learned so much today,” he says, dramatically throwing an arm around Minho. “You’ve shown me a whole new world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad I could give you the full experience.” he grabs Jisung’s milkshake-occupied hand and takes a sip. Chocolate as opposed to his vanilla. It’s too rich for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s an indirect kiss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want a real one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung!” Jisung laughs, pulling the straw to his own lips. “I’ll kiss you tons on the Ferris Wheel, how does that sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s satisfied, offering Jisung a sip of his own milkshake. “Indirect kiss me again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung giggles, letting Minho push the straw between his lips. It’s cooling down now that it’s late afternoon and he’s hit by the urge to intertwine their fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you had a good day, Sungie?” he asks, fiddling with the ring on Jisung’s index finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any day with you is amazing, princess,” Jisung says, “But today was even better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiles happily. “Okay, good then. That’s great, I’m— oh my god, do you wanna go see the reptiles?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung tilts his head at Minho’s sudden change of topic. “Of course, I do, baby, but what were you gonna say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter, I just saw a lizard balloon and I know you’re like, obsessed with Leopard Geckos and I think we have to go right now.” He’s already pulling Jisung in the direction of the exhibit as he finishes his sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung tries to act cool as Minho drags him to the other side of the indoor section of the amusement park, but he can’t contain the skip in his step when they step into the area marked “REPTILES” with dark blue and orange lighting instead of the natural sun streaming through the domed ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung, look!” Minho says, peering down at the spacious glass enclosure. “Leopard Gecko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bounces over, headband slipping over his eyes in his excitement. “Did you know that all geckos bark?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t, what else do they do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, these little guys don’t bark as much as other gecko species, but they do when they’re threatened.” Jisung’s voice is slightly absent as he trails a finger over the glass, giggling as the gecko follows it eagerly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He likes you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She, actually.” he grabs Minho’s wrist and makes him crouch next to him. “Look, she doesn’t have a very wide tail, that’s how you can tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nods along as Jisung rattles off facts about Leopard Geckos until the employee clears his throat behind them. “Sorry to disturb you, but there are people that would also like to see the gecko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances over and finds a trio of kids waiting patiently behind them and flushes red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung starts before he can. “Of course, sorry, we’ll be going now.” he locks arms with Minho and waves at the kids, before marching out of the exhibit as though they hadn’t been asked to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, baby,” Minho says, “I wish we could have stayed longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” Jisung giggles, “Besides, shouldn’t we be getting in line for the Ferris Wheel right about now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho checks his imaginary watch. “That’s correct, Jisungie.” he tries to squash down the fear building in the pit of his stomach. “Shall we go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pulls him closer as they walk in the direction of the outdoor park entrance, still listing facts about reptiles that he didn’t get to tell Minho while they were in the enclosure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hold my hand, I’ve got you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shakily releases his death grip on the safety bar and accepts Jisung’s offer. They’re only about halfway up, but he’s really starting to regret his choices, despite how excited Jisung seems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I’m just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really scared of heights?” Jisung squeezes his hand. “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho inches closer to him, trying to avoid looking at how far away the ground is. “Even if you did, you really wanted to go, it’s part of the amusement park experience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine with not having the full experience if you’re scared, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride begins moving again and Minho freezes in his place, his free hand holding onto the bar for dear life. Jisung does his best to shuffle closer to him without shaking their car and ignores how tight Minho is holding onto his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me, princess,” he says, reaching out to turn Minho’s chin towards him. “Hey, there we go, don’t focus on the ground, just on me, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nods, tensing again as they move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You silly thing.” Jisung’s hand is on his cheek now, “We could have done something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting your kiss at the top if it kills me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughs, caressing Minho’s cheekbone with his thumb. “I appreciate your dedication, princess, maybe next time we can live out one of my less terrifying fantasies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about those, distract me, please.” Minho is really trying to keep his gaze away from the drop, but it beckons him more with each passing second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, well, there’s one where we share an ice cream, or the one where I buy you a balloon— would you like a balloon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho hums. “Balloons sound nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw a merchant with a whole bunch of big sparkly ones,” he says, “We can get one after this if you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re just trying to get me to let you pay for something,” Minho laughs. It’s less nervous now that Jisung is properly distracting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” he says, “You can’t stop me, though, I think you deserve a balloon after this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you just let one day be about you?” Minho grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughs, still gently stroking Minho’s cheek with a fond look on his face. “I like doing things for you,” he says, “It makes me just as happy as when you do things for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is about to respond when they come to a stop and he’s interrupted by Jisung’s gasp. He’s shocked to find that they’re already at the top, the small-talk having clearly worked to keep him calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get that kiss now?” Jisung asks, cocking his head to one side. “I think it would be a bit of a waste if we—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s cut off by a pair of lips, smiling smugly into the kiss like he’d been expecting the reaction to his very intentional babble. When Minho pulls away he presses quick kisses into his plush mouth, heartwarming at how easily he relaxes into his hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Minho can pull him in again, they’re leaving the top behind in favour of slowly moving towards solid ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he’s eager to get a better taste of Jisung— lingering chocolate milkshake and his usual honey-undertones— he’s more terrified of the way the Ferris Wheel moves, even if it’s taking them closer to standing on their own feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy, princess.” Minho can hear the blend of fondness and concern in his voice. “You’re doing so well! Don’t look down, look at me. I’ll tell you when it’s safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho lets himself be distracted once more, eyes flicking nervously between almost looking down and gazing at Jisung’s features, mapping them out in his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nearly there, baby,” Jisung says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re very good at this.” Minho looks down at their clasped hands. “A natural.” if he wasn’t attached to Jisung’s hand and the metal bar he’d poke his nose, his cheek, smooth his hair back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re all things he wishes for now, but he tells himself he can do them when they aren’t “trapped” on the Ferris Wheel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s sweet murmurs keep him grounded until the bar is removed and he’s able to reacquaint himself with the earth once more. His knees wobble a bit as he steps off the platform and if it wasn’t for the firm arm around his waist he’s sure they would have given out, but luckily, he’s saved the embarrassment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go sit down for a bit,” Jisung laughs, “Then we can find you a balloon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minho’s head hits the desk for the third time in two hours. He’s got a textbook open in front of him but the words are swimming across the page, making it difficult for him to process anything he’s reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he shoots up, trying to resume his studying, he finds that his eyes refuse to stay open no matter what he does. He shakes his head, looks at his phone, tries just about everything he can, but soon he’s involuntarily drifting off to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wakes to a slight commotion around him as a hand rests briefly on the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” he asks sleepily, eyes fluttering open. “Jisungie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is, in fact, moving around him as quietly as possible, trying to pack away all his books without disturbing his impromptu nap. He looks like he’s about to curse at himself for waking Minho, but he softens almost immediately when their eyes meet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, princess,” he says, fondly returning Minho’s sleepy smile. “You weren’t answering your messages, Changbin figured you’d be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little after ten,” Jisung scolds, “You shouldn’t be here so late, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t mean to.” Minho honestly just wants to go back to sleep. “Tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guessed.” he puts the tote bag over one shoulder, reaching for Minho’s hand with his own. “Let me drive you home? You’re not taking the bus this late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All his will to defy is absent in his exhaustion and instead of arguing he slips his palm against Jisung’s. “Thank you, Sungie,” he says, “I can carry my bag, though, you don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung has absolutely no intention of giving it to him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” he squeezes Minho’s hand gently. “The librarian said they’re closing soon, we should go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The car isn’t too far away, although it feels further as Jisung does have to make sure Minho doesn’t trip over thin air in his sleepy haze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against all odds, they get to the car unscathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho has his arms wrapped around himself, shivering now that he’s not in the warmth of his “claimed” nook in the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, baby,” Jisung sighs, already pulling off his jacket. “How many times am I gonna tell you to bring a jacket even when it’s warm out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just lets Jisung wrap him up— the leather smells like him, just like it always does— before climbing carefully into the front seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung almost immediately angles the vents towards him, turning up the heat as high as it goes and leans over to press a quick kiss to Minho’s temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you there so late?” he asks, hand curling subconsciously around Minho’s thigh. “I don’t mind coming to get you, but I still worry about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho yawns. “Extra-credit,” he says, tracing the ghost tattoo on Jisung’s wrist. “I didn’t do enough during the semester… it’s all coming back to haunt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You absolutely did work hard enough!” he can’t hide the disbelief in his voice. “Hyung, you’re top of the class!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung tightens his grip on Minho’s thigh. “Baby, you are one of the smartest people I know and you work </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard, don’t beat your own ass about it, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frown on his face doesn’t disappear, but Jisung feels him relax under his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though,” he mumbles, “I was the best and I’m not anymore, therefore, I need to put in the extra hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Princess.” Jisung has never been happier to pull into his apartment parking lot. He turns off the ignition and turns to face Minho head-on. “You shouldn’t overwork yourself just because someone can remember Performance History better than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not overworking myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fell asleep at the university library,” he says, “I think that means you’re overworking yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just had a long day, that’s all.” he laces their fingers together and holds both hands in his lap. “It won’t happen again,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you be happy if I did that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not! why would I— oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho trails off into a yawn, eyes drifting shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silly baby,” Jisung says, ever fond of how endearing Minho is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung carries him to the building but wakes him up to climb the stairs. There are way more leading to his own apartment than Minho’s, and while he’s willing to carry him, there’s just too much risk in their shared tired state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re nearly there!” Minho is practically delirious and Jisung can’t help but wonder when the last time he got a full night of sleep was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pokes Minho’s side. “You’re right, baby, look!” he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door open, standing back to let Minho through first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you eaten?” he asks, placing a gentle hand on Minho’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Hyunjin sneaks food into the library, he gave me some of his snacks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you haven’t had proper food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, really—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shakes his head. “Go hop in the shower, princess, I’ll make you some ramyeon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that counts as proper food,” Minho teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than the candy I’m sure Hyunjin was feeding you,” he says, turning Minho and pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. “Now go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho waddles to Jisung’s bedroom, reluctantly parting with the jacket in favour of pulling out a hoodie and a pair of his own sweats from the closet. He (embarrassingly) buries his face in the hoodie when he gets to the bathroom, missing Jisung despite only being meters away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shower serves to make him even sleepier, but he realises as he pulls the soft yellow and blue fabric of Jisung’s hoodie over his head that he is, in fact, really fucking hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds Jisung on the couch with a cup of noodles in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, princess,” he says, “Yours is on the counter. I added an egg, figured you’re probably pretty hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho has never been more grateful for how well Jisung knows him, especially as he cuddles up next to him on the couch and digs into his dinner, the hunger amplifying the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my new ramyeon chef,” he says when they’re in bed later. “New job title for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can barely hear Jisung respond as he drifts off to sleep, but he’s warm and safe and decidedly happy as he lets himself slip into sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Minho-hyung!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell to the store rings and a group of five teenagers stream through the door. He feels a grin spread across his face as they crowd over the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, kids,” Minho says, pulling a crate out from under the counter. “I’ve got some new shit for you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says “new shit” but it’s really the mixtapes and records from his own collection. On Saturdays, they come in and use him as a music library, borrowing for a week before returning the next time they come in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s his favourite time of the week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so focused on giving out hand-picked packages to each of them that he doesn’t hear the bell ring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This one’s got 90s pop-punk on it, I think you’ll really be into it,” he says, handing over the cassette. “I really liked stickers back in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He still does,” a voice says and Minho’s head shoots up to find the source, a smile splitting his face before he can stop it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know?” the boy he’d been talking to asks, shoving the mixtape in the pocket of his windbreaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s eyes flit to Minho’s, searching for confirmation. When he gets a small smile in return he looks back at the boy, opposing his squared shoulders by tucking his hands lazily in his pockets. “I like to think I know him pretty well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost snorts at the almost protective stance the kids take in front of the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really?” one of the two girls asks, “What’s his favourite anime?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! You don’t know that, either!” Minho says, indignant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung chuckles, leaning against the counter. “I’m sure you’d all love to know,” he says, “But I don’t think he’d appreciate me telling you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the kids can start bombarding Jisung with more questions, Minho interrupts. “There’s bubble tea for you in the fridge,” he says, giving them a dangerous look. “Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>go.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They all shuffle into the back room, whispering about Jisung and who he could be. He has absolutely no intention of telling them, but he figures they’ll probably guess, despite his wishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he closes the door behind them, he turns to Jisung, face finally relaxing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a fan club?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a group of ducklings that just so happened to imprint on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughs and opens his arms, letting Minho run straight into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice muffled by Jisung’s jacket. “Last I checked, we don’t have anything planned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” Jisung releases him to return to behind the counter, leaning over so they’re still close. “Also—” he lifts a bag Minho hadn’t even realised he was carrying— “I brought you lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are the statistics for proposals in record stores?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’re both a little young for marriage, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, don’t call me that, the brats are probably eavesdropping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, there’s a crash and hushed voices, presumably from people scrambling away from being crowded around a door. If he strains, he can hear a whispered argument going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serves you right!” he calls, before turning back to Jisung. “What was I saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were proposing, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of my store.” he checks that there’s no one coming in before pulling Jisung forward by his shirt and connecting their lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung very obviously wants to kiss him for hours, come around the counter and press him up against the wall, maybe make him a bit silly. Unfortunately, Minho still has a few hours left of his shift and he’s not about to lose his job to impulsive decisions, as tempting as it may seem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you,” he says against Jisung’s lips, “I’ll come over later, get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins, pulling away properly and patting the counter as a signal of his departure. “Don’t forget to eat your lunch,” he says, “See you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell rings when he leaves, pushing the door a little too hard before blushing and realising he’s meant to pull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiles softly to himself as he releases the kids from the back room. “You all got your tea?” he asks, purposely avoiding the topic of Jisung. “I got your usuals, your names were on them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks hyung, they’re—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that your boyfriend?” one of them interrupts, addressing the elephant in the room. Suddenly he has five pairs of expectant eyes on him, all waiting with bated breath for him to give them something on Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>my boyfriend,” he splutters, turning away to hide his flushed cheeks. “He’s just a good friend of mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure he’s not your boyfriend?” Minho isn’t sure which of them asked but he begins to think that murder might not be such a bad option. “Hey, don’t eat me, you just seemed very… close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What she’s trying to say is that if someone were to have listened by the door—” he’s quick to put his hands up in defence as Minho raises an eyebrow. “—not us, but if someone did— they’d think that maybe you’d be dating, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not dating Jisung, you brats,” he says, ignoring the way they immediately perk up at the name, “And even if I was, it’s not your business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you kinda made it our business when you started making out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho feels himself blushing once again. “Out of my shop, I don’t want to see you again until next week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They know he’s joking, but they still pout and file out the door, still whispering about how they don’t believe Minho for a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the tapes, hyung!” one of them calls right before the door closes. He waves his hand, shooing them as best he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he’s sure they’re gone, he puts both hands to his cheeks. Still warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking Jisung,” he mutters, reaching for the bag of food he’d received. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels like a fool as he sips the cherry coke. Jisung has way too much of an effect on him, especially if the kids had picked up on it after five minutes of interaction with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>they’re obsessed with you now</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>aw</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>sorry to take away your fan club, baby</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>they aren’t my fan club</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>they’re</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i’m like… their music library</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>omg</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i want that privilege, too</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>you’re on my apple music family plan</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i think having access to my current faves is enough?</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i still think you should switch to spotify</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>you could properly listen to the playlists i send you</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i stand by my choice</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i’m fine with using the free version</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>all i’m saying is that you do this little jump every time you get an ad</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>it’s cute</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>remind me to show you later</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>who would pay for the family plan?</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>you wouldn’t need one if we were both on premium</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i use apple music because you refuse to send me playlists on spotify</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>i’m trying to convert you</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>gtg</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>got a customer</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>minho: </b>
  <em>
    <span>see you later &lt;3</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"><b>jisung: </b>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;33</span>
  </em>
</span></p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small"></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He arrives at Jisung’s apartment to absolute chaos in the form of twenty-three years worth of music scattered on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sungie?” he calls, treading carefully around the piles of records, CDs, music sheets and cassettes. “Baby, what on earth are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung comes rushing out through the hallway, hands full with two suitcases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, princess.” he pecks Minho’s lips on his way past. “Come, you can help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” he follows Jisung back out into the living room. “What exactly are we doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung places the suitcases on the slowly disappearing floor and spins to Minho with a sheepish smile. “Well, that’s a long story…” his hands find Minho’s waist. “Basically it’s for your high school kids, I’ve got an unreasonable amount of music lying around and I figured you could use it or give it to them or something, you don’t have to, now that I’m saying it out loud it sounds pretty stupid—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho cuts him off by pressing their lips together. “You’re perfect, Sung,” he says when they pull apart, “They’re gonna love this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calm seems to wash over Jisung as he relaxes in Minho’s arms. “You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t have a choice, I adore it. I adore you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung smiles, kissing his cheek happily. “Let’s get to work, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s past midnight by the time they’ve sorted Jisung’s seemingly endless music collection into baskets for Minho to loan to the kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s put each bundle carefully in separate paper bags and packed them into the hall closet, just waiting for whenever he’s over at Jisung’s place to collect them. Now they’re splayed out side by side on the floor of the living room floor, casual conversation drifting easily between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want to do for your birthday?” Jisung asks, linking their pinkies where their hands lie on the carpet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho hadn’t realised it was so soon, but now that he thinks about it, his birthday is only a week away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d quite like a small thing,” he says, “You, me, Changbin and Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jeongin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like fun, baby,” Jisung turns his head to gaze at Minho’s profile. “You wanna have it here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could we?” Minho doesn’t like having the cats around when they drink. “That’d be better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, princess.” Jisung sits up and splays a hand over Minho’s chest. “It’s gonna be great, and we’re going to Felix’s Halloween party, too, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I absolutely do,” he says, “I’ve got an outfit and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really? What are you going as? A goblin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung throws his head back when he laughs. “Shut up!” he slaps Minho’s chest lightly and catches his breath, slipping his hand under his shirt to rub gentle circles into his stomach. “I’m going as a witch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I come as your cat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He meant it as a joke, but the way Jisung’s hand stills and his eyes widen is enough for him to realise he doesn’t really have a choice anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still with me, baby?” he asks, voice laced with humour as he guides Jisung’s hand back to massaging his stomach. “I could go for something else if you’re not a fan…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no.” Jisung’s brain is evidently still short-circuiting. “No, I like the cat idea, stick with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” he keeps teasing. “I’ve got other things I could wear… I’m pretty sure Hyunjin still has the maid dress from last year—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s cut off by Jisung choking on air, spluttering as he tries to keep Minho from talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop teasing me, fucker,” he says once he’s remembered how to breathe, “You can wear whatever you want, it won’t have an effect on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho almost lets it slide, but egging Jisung on is just too much fun to pass up. “So you’re not gonna like what I wear?” he paints on a fake pout for good measure. “I’ll just have to do something to catch your attention, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung doesn’t even respond, he just swings his leg over Minho’s middle and pins his wrists beside his head. “You were saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loves when Jisung gives him an opportunity to mouth off. “I was saying, maybe I could do something to catch your attention.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Jisung leans down to brush his lips against the shell of Minho’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “You really think you don’t have my attention already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently so,” he whines as lips press against his neck. “Let me go, Jisungie, wanna touch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have thought about that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to pass Minho’s wrists into one hand, but as soon as he lets go, Minho flips them so he’s got his knees on either side of Jisung’s hips. “There we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really would have worked with anyone but Jisung, because as soon as his hands are on his thighs, Minho finds himself turning to jelly in his hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a shit, Jisung,” he says in between breaths as he’s kissed dumb. “Let me have one moment of glory, just one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always win, don’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sentence alone brings so much to Minho’s mind that he stops kissing back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you just say?” he sits up straight in Jisung’s lap. “Repeat what you just said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pushes himself up so he’s leaning back on his hands, face now mere centimetres away from Minho’s. He tilts his head to one side, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he tries to discern what has him so shaken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, hyung?” he asks, bringing a hand back to Minho’s leg to rub soothingly into the fabric of his sweatpants. “Baby, tell me what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…” Minho drops his head to Jisung’s shoulder, drawing in a shaky breath. “You haven’t said that since… you know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It dawns on Jisung that he’s talking about the night he left. “Hey, princess, look at me, hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cups Minho’s face between both his hands and runs his thumbs gently across smooth, milky skin. His own brow is furrowed in concern, but he can’t even bring himself to relax it when Minho is looking at him like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, baby,” he says, voice as sincere as he could possibly be. “No leaving, I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shaky nod. He brings his arms up to tentatively wrap around Jisung’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pulls back, eyes wide at Minho’s apology. “Hyung, you did nothing wrong. All of that shit is on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho wants to argue, wants to scream that there’s no reality where Jisung would ever hurt him purposefully and that there’s certainly no universe where he wouldn’t have done the same, but deep down, he knows there’s truth to his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Jisung would never do it maliciously, he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>did it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of arguing, he chooses to bury his nose into Jisung’s neck, honey scent filling his senses as his breathing slows to a gentle rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I know what’ll cheer you up,” Jisung says, “Will you let me cheer you up, baby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you thinking?” he tilts his head with his best impression of Jisung’s cocky smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It draws the desired laugh from Jisung, throwing his head back at the way Minho looks at him. “Do I really look like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m better at it, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really?” Jisung pinches his leg. “What makes you think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho knows part of the smirk is the attitude, the energy, but he really does love teasing Jisung more than anything. That being said, all words die on his tongue when lips find his, soft and tender like they’ve got all the time in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” he says against Jisung’s lips, “What were you going to say earlier?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” Jisung runs a hand through Minho’s hair, twirling a faded caramel lock around his index finger. “I have red hair dye in the bathroom. I thought we could maybe try something new?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look Minho gives him is enough confirmation, his lips parted in a small “o” with big, sparkly eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How red is red?” he’s been meaning to dye his hair again since the caramel washed out to the weird in-between bleached stage. “I’ll do it either way but I’d quite like to know what you’re gonna put on my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Firetruck red,” Jisung laughs, “It’ll be cute, like a strawberry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is sold, already climbing out of Jisung’s lap. “I have the perfect birthday outfit planned, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Care to tell me about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” he says, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww, but princess,” he whines, grabbing Minho’s hand and leading him to the bathroom, “I’m special, aren’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses a kiss to Jisung’s lips. “Of course, you are. That doesn’t mean you’re incapable of waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could tell me anyway, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could, but I don’t think I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pouts, setting about pulling all his supplies out of the cabinet. “Get in the tub, fucker, it’ll be easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho laughs at the muttering and slips into the empty tub, leaning back against the edge. “We should have a bath one of these days,” he says, “I’ve got bath bombs, you’ve got a tub— it’s perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s kinda hot, if you ask me,” Jisung says nonchalantly, ducking as Minho throws a sponge at him, “I’m kidding… sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Minho watches him pile the dye kit and towels into the sink and can’t help but realise how stupidly domestic it all is. They’ve crossed so many lines already, but something about Jisung dyeing his hair at two in the morning feels different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an intimacy boundary. They’ve been intimate before, god knows they’re closer than two </span>
  <em>
    <span>just friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be, but it’s certainly something new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crossing yet another line should come naturally by now, but it still excites him to no end. His skin tingles against the cool plastic of the bathtub, hair standing on end when Jisung’s fingers dance along the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s a towel, hyung,” he says, already wrapping it around his shoulders. “I’m gonna wet your hair first, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hums a tune as he works. His fingers are gentle, even in the harsh plastic of the gloves and Minho is close to sleep as he massages the dye into his hair and against his scalp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, it looks kinda gross now, but when you wash it out it’ll look great,” Jisung says, pulling the shower cap over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiles up at him. He’s starting to feel the effects of staying up so late, but his skin still buzzes where Jisung brushes it to get into the tub with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” he says, slotting his legs around one of Jisung’s. The tub isn’t huge, so they’re bent awkwardly at either end to fit, tangled in the middle. “You’re in the bath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for that observation, hyung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome, I’m very good at things like that,” Minho laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you also regretting not doing this earlier?” Jisung asks, “Not gonna lie, I’m really fucking tired right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be pleased to hear that I almost dozed off when you were putting the dye in earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah but that’s your inner cat coming out, you love it when I play with your hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho blushes and looks away, avoiding Jisung’s teasing gaze. “Shut up, I don’t like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, kitty,” Jisung laughs. He gains a playful kick from Minho for the nickname, but his fluffy sock-clad feet do little damage even at close range. Still, he humours him. “Stop, stop! I surrender!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Minho huffs, “Be afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I am, princess, don’t even get me started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows full well that Jisung is teasing him again, but it’s so gentle here, so easy to relax into that he can’t help but comply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On a scale from one to ten, how dumb do I look right now?” he asks, pointing at his plastic-wrapped head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look great, what do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung!” Minho laughs, “Be honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, princess, you’re pushing a strong eight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a bastard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you have plastic wrap on your head— I think we make quite the pair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Washing the dye out entails multiple things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first is Minho actually showering instead of letting Jisung pour warm cups of water over his hair like he did before they started. It’s simple, really, both of them are experienced with dye and know exactly what comes with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re less prepared for the second aspect, which involves Minho either asking Jisung to stay or leave while he showers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s awkward and as close as they are, this is new territory for the both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just gonna go get my hairdryer sorted,” Jisung says, rubbing the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Minho doesn’t know why there’s disappointment in his voice, but it’s palpable and weird and his heart is beating twice its usual speed as he pulls his shirt over his head. “You can stay if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine without me,” Jisung says, flashing him a smile in the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho doesn’t miss the glimmer of panic that flits across his eyes, but questioning it really is a job for when his hair isn’t sticky with dye and steam isn’t filling his senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Sungie,” he says, “Whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disappears, leaving the door swinging shut behind him. Minho furrows his brow, confused and quite concerned at his sudden change in demeanour and how painfully unlike him it was for him to leave Minho alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water is too hot against his skin, but it keeps his mind sharp as he tries to figure out why Jisung had reacted so strangely. It’s not something he’d worry about for anyone else, but this is different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so obviously different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at the red washing down the drain, swirling around his feet in watered-down ribbons that change from dark and daunting to an eventual light-pink, and then to clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung put clothes on the counter for him. He must have been really quiet, Minho didn’t even hear him open the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s his favourite of Jisung’s hoodies, the dark green one with flowers and a pair of loose shorts. There are also fresh socks under the pile with spaceships printed around his ankles— he knows Jisung is in a mood but there’s nothing that makes his heart do a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like when he remembers little things like his silly sock habit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tugs on the clothes and ruffles his wet hair with a towel. The first glance in the mirror makes him weak at the knees, having to reach out to grab the edge of the counter to hold himself up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung?” he calls, padding down the hallway to the bedroom. “I’m finished, where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he gets to the bedroom, he spots the hairdryer next to the pillow, but Jisung is nowhere to be found.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sungie?” he feels panic rising in his chest as he rushes through to the kitchen. “Jisung, are you through here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms wrap around his middle and he immediately relaxes into the touch. “Hey, what’s wrong, princess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t find you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just making tea,” he says, “I’m right here, see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nods, damp hair falling into his eyes as Jisung searches his face. He’s not sure what he’s looking for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hair looks great on you, baby,” he says, brushing it back with his fingers. “You gonna let me dry it for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s grateful for the subject change. “I can dry it myself, you don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung leads him back down the hallway and now that he’s looking, he can see the mugs of tea on the bedside table, a clear indication that Jisung isn’t leaving any time soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hop on the bed, won’t you?” he makes quick work of plugging the hairdryer into the outlet and unwinding the cord as Minho makes himself comfy on his folded legs. “This is the best thing we’ve ever done— the red looks amazing, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho covers his steadily warming cheeks with his sweater paws. “I like it, too,” he says, “It’s a nice change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree.” Jisung’s hand finds the back of Minho’s neck before creeping up into his hair to make it a bit more manageable before he starts with the brush. “Although I think you’d look great in any colour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re biased, though,” Minho says, “Your opinion is absolutely tainted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> his voice is particularly indignant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means you like pulling my hair, it doesn’t matter what colour it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to pull your hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho will admit that he walked right into that one, but he can’t bring himself to regret it when Jisung pulls his head pack to plant a quick kiss on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look at me like that,” Jisung laughs, releasing him so he can keep brushing out his hair. “It’s late. We’re gonna finish this and then sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits and pouts as Jisung blow-dries his hair, fingers so gentle as they scrape against his scalp. It’s obvious that he’s doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> more than he needs to, but maybe there’d been some truth to his claim of Minho being a cat back in the bathtub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s done, he bundles the hairdryer into one of the baskets under his bed and sits next to Minho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I freaked you out earlier,” he says. Minho still sits facing inwards, so he can see he’s genuine from the emotion held in his eyes. “I want to reassure you, but I can’t always do it and I’m sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay, Jisung,” Minho mumbles, placing a hand on Jisung’s cheek. “I also need to work on not being scared when I can’t find you, I know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I make things easier for you?” he leans into Minho’s touch. “I want to, I really do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighs. He’s not even sure why he’s still reacting so viscerally to any reminder of Jisung leaving. It’s been months since it happened and he honestly wants nothing more than to leave it in the past, but something is holding him back that he can’t place no matter how hard he tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Sungie,” he says, “I’ll tell you when I figure it out, but for now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing in the world he wants more than to lift the guilt from Jisung’s shoulders, take away the weight he’d been carrying for so long. His problem is that he’s not sure he’ll ever unlearn the fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re allowed to be upset over it, hyung.” Jisung wraps his hand around Minho’s wrist. “I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not what he wants at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you left for your own reasons, Jisung. It wasn’t about me, it was about you. You shouldn’t have to keep apologising for something you did in the hopes of feeling better, even though it hurt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wipes away the tear that slips down Jisung’s cheek with his thumb. Minho can’t begin to comprehend how their night of sorting music and impulsively dyeing his hair turned into this, but it’s not unwelcome, not when he knows there’s no resentment between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like there ever has been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to be happy, hyung,” Jisung says, “I hate seeing you so scared and I hate myself for being the reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please stop blaming yourself.” He’s doing his best to hold back the whimper building in his throat. “Jisung, please, I can’t let you hurt over this anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I can, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve forgiven you, baby.” Minho presses a kiss to his temple. “Please try to forgive yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure Jisung believes him, but all he can hope is that he will soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The tea got cold,” Jisung says with his mug raised to his lips anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighs. “You shouldn’t drink it if it’s cold</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll make me sleep either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me go warm it up,” Minho says, gently prying Jisung’s fingers from around the handle and picking up his own. “You haven’t showered yet, have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shakes his head and makes for the closet, pulling out clothes to change into. “If I’m not back by the time you are, you know where I’ll be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He appreciates the acknowledgement of their conversation, even if he’ll be able to hear the shower down the hall without being told. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, baby.” Minho moves to leave when Jisung catches his hip gently, pulling him back towards him. “You need something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung cups his face and kisses him tenderly, nothing behind it and certainly no real intention, but Minho knows. He always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go shower, I’d quite like to sleep before the sun is out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’d be fine sleeping the day away with you.” Jisung releases his hip and gives him a gentle nudge towards the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you would, Sungie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look so cute, hyung!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin is sprawled out on Minho’s floor, conversation with Changbin forgotten as Minho spins in his outfit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s right, hyung.” Changbin raises his head from Minho’s pillow. “I love the beret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho smiles softly and checks his appearance again in the full-length mirror. The overalls and the short-sleeved button-down have him looking extra soft today, but the icing on the cake is his white beret from Hyunjin, complete with tiny crocheted strawberries sewn on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He messes with his newly cherry-red bangs, fluffing them out as best he can without disturbing the position of the hat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you still happy to do my makeup, Jinnie?” he asks, “I don’t see why you need to, I’m very good at it—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your birthday, hyung!” Hyunjin exclaims, practically wrenching the makeup bag from his hands. “You’re lucky I didn’t dress you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being a bit excessive,” Changbin says. He’s back to playing games on his phone while Hyunjin and Minho bicker. “He doesn’t even need makeup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My point isn’t that I don’t need makeup, Changbin,” he whines, “I just don’t understand why Hyunjin has to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts his hands up in defence. “Hurry up and decide. We’re leaving as soon as you’re done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin eventually manages to wrestle Minho into the chair and keep him still long enough to put makeup on him. They can both hear Changbin tapping his foot on the floor, having sat up to stare at them impatiently, but conveniently ignore it as Hyunjin brushes copious amounts of blush across Minho’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung’s gonna love this,” he says as he fluffs out Minho’s bangs a tiny bit more to fit the look. “Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> birthday, he has to think I look good, he doesn’t have a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could show up in a trash bag and Jisung would still think you’re hot,” Changbin says, “Now, we really need to go. You’re late for your own party.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stop for drinks on the way, Changbin filling the shopping cart with six-packs of Minho’s favourites, citing something along the lines of “It’s been a few years since I gave you a proper present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho isn’t one to argue with someone holding a pack of lemon coolers that practically have his name on them, so he lets Changbin pile the drinks onto the counter with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on.” Hyunjin’s hands are full as he insisted on carrying all of their purchases. “Your boyfriend is probably starting to wonder where we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you still on that?” Changbin asks, “Minho-hyung!” he shakes him by the shoulders, thinly-veiled frustration slipping through the cracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell, hyung?” Hyunjin is solitary in his quest to pack the car in a way that will still leave him some room to move around in the back. “Jisung hasn’t even asked yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shakes his head and manages to get Changbin off of him, climbing into the front seat with practised ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows full well that Changbin and Hyunjin are worried about him, but he can’t help that he and Jisung aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> dating. It’s not his fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Binnie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin sighs. “We’re gonna actually talk about this sometime,” he starts, “Not today, it’s your day, but soon, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have much choice in the matter, not with two pairs of eyes on him as though he holds the secrets to the universe. Spoiler alert: he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, starting the car, “And besides, I’m happy with the way things are right now, Jisung treats me well and we care about each other. I couldn’t ask for anything better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin leans forward, head between their two seats. “You’re allowed to want more, hyung.” His hand is firm on the back of Minho’s neck, feeling for the point that will make him crumble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need more—” he’s cut off by gasp as Hyunjin presses down on a particularly sore patch. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drop the conversation as he starts the car, but the hand on the back of his neck remains. He internally curses Hyunjin for knowing him so well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re late,” Changbin remarks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my birthday, everyone else is just early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin snorts. “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, hyung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is,” he says, “Are you arguing with me on my birthday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, hyung,” Changbin laughs, giving his arm a gentle shove, “Just drive, Seungmin is blowing up my phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not special, Jisung is probably doing the same thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, Minho’s phone begins ringing and he gives Changbin a pointed look. When he reaches to grab it, however, his hand is smacked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re driving, hyung!” Hyunjin reaches forward and snatches the phone from the cupholder before Minho can counter. “I’ll answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Minho rolls his eyes. “Put him on speaker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Jisung,” Hyunjin starts, “Minho-hyung is driving, you’re on speaker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You guys are making him drive on his birthday?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho laughs at Jisung’s accusatory tone. “I know, isn’t it criminal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You insisted!” Changbin screeches. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dick move, Changbin-hyung, I get that Hyunjin can’t drive, but you have no excuse.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did no one teach you to respect your elders, Jisung?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t bicker with him, only I get to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin mutters something disguised by a cough that sounds suspiciously like “favourites.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, you two,” Minho says, “Babe, why are you calling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re like, an hour late.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re nearly there, Hyunjin took a long time to do my makeup.” A kick to the back of his chair sends Minho into a fit of giggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, you’re wearing makeup?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Jinnie made me really pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin interrupts before Jisung can respond. “Jinnie doesn’t like where this conversation is going! Bye Jisung!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so mean,” Minho says as his phone is placed back in the cupholder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin saved us all, you’re both revolting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite Changbin and Hyunjin’s best efforts, Jisung and Minho are all over each other as soon as they arrive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin’s complaints also fall on deaf ears and an indignant lecture from Jisung about the importance of celebrating birthdays correctly, including a dramatic reading of the text he’d sent Minho at midnight and a showcase of the house-slippers he’d brought him to keep at his apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s crucial that you treat people right, Seungmin,” he says, falling back into the armchair, “I’m sure you’d do the same for Changbin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t gross, but thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we need to leave?” Jeongin asks as Minho not-so-subtly migrates across the room and into Jisung’s lap. “Seriously, get a room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m barely doing anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then stop touching Jisung for ten minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Go get the drinks from the car, fuckers,” Minho says, glaring at them. “You don’t deserve me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t want you.” Changbin rolls his eyes as they all make a beeline for the door. “Please be decent while we’re gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No promises!” Jisung shouts after them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shifts in his lap so they’re facing each other, both his legs thrown over the arm of the chair. “You think they’ll come back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because it’s your birthday,” Jisung laughs, “Unfortunately I don’t have you to myself today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have me to yourself every other day.” Minho leans up to press a kiss to his lips. “Besides, I’m sure they’ll be worse after a few drinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as they leave my place before they get too bad.” Jisung cradles the back of Minho’s head with one hand and laces their fingers together with the other. “The only people who can be gross here are us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said they could crash in the living room, silly,” he says, “We can’t just kick them out now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you look so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good,</span>
  </em>
  <span> princess,” he whines, thumbing at one of the strawberries on Minho’s beret, “How am I meant to stop myself when you’re this cute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s give them a break,” Minho says, “We can ditch them when we go to bed, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to ditch our friends on your birthday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously not, Sungie,” he laughs, “But between the bed and fighting over the couch? I think you know my answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we kicked them out now, I could give you a proper birthday gift.” Jisung pushes his lips out into a dramatic pout. “Just saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s plenty of time for that later.” Minho moves again until he’s upright and he can kiss Jisung’s cheek. “Let's go sort out snacks for now, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung grunts but helps Minho unceremoniously climb out of his lap. The kitchen counter is stacked with bags of chips and Minho’s favourite candy, as well as a messy pile of cash they’d obviously all pitched-in to buy pizza lately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s no major gathering, but Minho’s heart warms at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungmin made caramel popcorn while we were waiting for you to arrive,” Jisung says, “It’s still in the pot, he says it’s best to eat it while it’s still warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s what smelled so good.” Minho lifts the lid and inhales the sugary, buttery scent, “I knew it couldn’t just be a candle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My candles could do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure they could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, my candles are great, I even got a pumpkin-spice one for October.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho tries to hold back his laughter at Jisung’s indignance. “And I’m sure it’s great, babe,” he says before pointing at the pot, “But it’s not this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The muttering sound Jisung makes is masked by the sound of him opening a bag of chips and emptying its contents into a bowl. Minho can still hear traces of him grumbling about his candle even after, though, so the noise didn’t do much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you hate me if I mix the bags?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will make you sleep on the floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood.” Jisung backs away from Minho’s party-sized bag of apple and honey chips and begins pouring different brands and shapes of hard-pretzels into a sectioned tray. “How about Skittles and M&amp;M’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Literally what is wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree, Jisung, what the fuck?” Neither of them had heard the others come in, so they startle at Hyunjin’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin, you have to understand the science of not knowing,” Jisung says, shaking both bags of candy frantically, “It’s about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>surprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you aware that you’re insane?” Hyunjin asks, before turning to Minho, “Does he know he’s insane?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Minho teases, “Jisung, baby, you absolutely cannot mix the M&amp;M’s and the Skittles. I won’t allow it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pouts and puts each bag in a separate bowl. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” he says, “I’m never wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not.” Minho moves around the counter to wrap himself around Jisung’s back and rest his chin on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can continue, he’s cut off by fake-gagging sounds from Hyunjin and Seungmin, who joined him at some point between Jisung’s sanity being questioned and Minho initiated their typical skinship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck off, you two,” Jisung scoffs, “Don’t you have the other bastards to dote on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’d all love it if you left the kitchen at some point today,” Seungmin calls over his shoulder, “Just saying!” They can both hear the others cackling in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung spins around in Minho’s hold as soon as they’re out of earshot. “Hi,” he says, “You wanna stop distracting me? I have to finish these snacks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault you’re easily distracted!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is your fault for wearing this shirt.” Jisung toys with the semi-transparent fabric under Minho’s overalls. “It’s absolutely your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re no better,” he laughs, “Your whole chest is out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair.” Jisung makes a move that Minho assumes is to do up at least one of his buttons, but instead he drags his shirt open to reveal more of his collarbone. “I’m cute, though, aren’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a menace,” Minho wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. He doesn’t mean to let himself get carried away, but it’s clear that Jisung is hellbent on getting him to crack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho lets his neck give as Jisung returns the kiss, fingers threading into his hair naturally. What he’d expected to be a quick peck has very quickly turned into Jisung flipping them, so he’s the one with the cold edge of the counter pressed into his lower back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything is heightened, the pressure against him from both ends not making him feel trapped, somewhat secure. It’s almost unfortunate that Jisung knows exactly how to keep him coming back for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go before they send someone to look for us,” he mumbles against Jisung’s lips, “I really don’t want to deal with them finding us like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung withdraws, running one last lingering finger across Minho’s lips before pulling away completely. “Me neither,” he pushes a hand through his hair, “Let’s go see your guests, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho takes his hand with a beaming smile. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our</span>
  </em>
  <span> guests.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes about four drinks for Minho to realise that Jisung </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>play cards to save his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe,” he giggles as Jisung fails yet again to put down a single house for the entire round, “You do realise you have to collect, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know,” Jisung shushes him, “You’re all just very good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sadly for him, and by extension, Minho, too, partnering up to try and save Jisung’s pride only leads to their team failing just as miserably, and thus the call to end the game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re both sore losers,” Seungmin says with his and Changbin’s complete houses laid out neatly in front of them, “It’s not our fault you can’t play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m making it your fault,” Minho says, “You’ve won six rounds in a row, I’ve had enough of losing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin and Hyunjin agree, but only on the basis that they’re also losing to Seungmin and Changbin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You brought enough alcohol to last a lifetime, hyung,” Jeongin says, “Let’s play a game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m down for party games,” Jisung says, turning to Minho, “Hey, princess, truth or dare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dare.” he knows exactly where this is going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kiss me.” Their lips are together before he even finishes, much to the disdain of the rest of the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shoe hits Minho’s leg, and he pulls away to see Changbin missing one. “You bastard,” he says, “You hit me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you two worse than you were earlier?” Hyunjin asks, incredulous, “I thought it was bad when we could all hear you making out in the kitchen, but this is actually worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that, folks.” Jisung sits up straight and makes a show of dusting off his shirt. “What was it you wanted to play, Innie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin looks between them, eyes narrowed. “Truth or drink,” he says, “No more dares for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like dares, though,” Jisung whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we know, hyung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I’ll go get the tequila. Be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All eyes are on Minho as soon as Jisung leaves the room, intensity varying from Seungmin, who just looks unimpressed, to Changbin and Hyunjin with their gazes full of inflated displeasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is it possible for four people to third-wheel?” Hyunjin poses out loud, sending the room— barring Minho— into a fit of laughter. “Genuinely asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before anyone can answer, Jisung is bounding back into the room with a bottle, a stack of shot glasses and a bowl of lime slices. “I hope you’re all ready to drink because Changbin-hyung bought enough to get us through several nights like these.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we can take it to Felix’s party,” Changbin laughs, “It’s not like you need to drink it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tempt me,” Jisung says, finding his spot on the carpet next to Minho. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t getting alcohol poisoning on my birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, I promise,” he assures, “Can we all take a shot to begin? I feel like I’m gonna need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all nod and Minho grabs the bottle before Jisung can, pouring out six shots and passing them around. “Cheers, boys,” he says, throwing his back and immediately shuddering at the taste. “Toss the limes, won’t you, Jinnie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sourness makes him wince, but soon he’s leaning into Jisung’s side again. They’re ready to play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungmin,” he starts, “Why do you and Changbin act like you’re not just as bad as us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes. “Because we’re not.” he glances at Changbin. “Also, you two are really difficult to avoid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Minho nods at the answer. “Your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeongin,” Seungmin says after a moment of contemplation, “Were you the one who vandalised the administration block last year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No comment,” he says, pouring himself a shot, “It’s best you all claim ignorance on that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he notices Minho’s wide-eyed gaze on him, he doesn’t make it known. Instead, he turns to Changbin with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, why don’t you paint anymore?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even in Minho’s very tipsy state, he knows the question is a sore point. He’s ready to jump in, but Changbin speaks up before he can try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get the bottle?” Minho slides it in his direction, watching him pour tequila straight down his throat. Seungmin’s hand sits comfortably on the back of his neck. “Alright, I’m good, Jisung—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” he groans, sitting up, “Fine, hit me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you and Minho </span>
  <em>
    <span>like that </span>
  </em>
  <span>on purpose, or does it just come naturally to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung takes the opportunity to tug Minho closer to him and sneak an arm around his waist. “All-natural, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call my boyfriend ‘baby’,” Seungmin says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, I’ve got my own princess.” Jisung grabs Minho’s jaw and turns him, so they’re nose-to-nose before kissing him softly. “See? He tilts his head at them when they part, he’s great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like </span>
  <em>
    <span>“take a shot every time Jisung calls hyung ‘princess’</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” and Minho takes it upon himself to send him a sharp glare across the circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back to the game,” he says, “Jisung, ask someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask you, princess.” he grins, forcing Minho to look at him again. “Which of your cats is your favourite?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you?” Minho gasps, “Pass me the bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pours himself a shot and watches Jisung’s face contort into something akin to pure joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Soonie, isn’t it?” he whispers after Minho downs his drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have favourites.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you did, it would be Soonie, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Doongie favouritism shows, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid to say Doongie is my favourite. She adores me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shakes his head and turns back to the circle, finding four pairs of unimpressed eyes on both of them. He coughs, embarrassed. “Uh, is it my turn?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin hums a confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin.” he considers him for a moment. Jeongin’s hand laced between his own has his mind </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take the risk, but that kind of question isn’t one he particularly wants to air out at his party. “Why have you been skipping dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All eyes are on him, now. It’s not too personal, but Hyunjin looks affronted, and he can’t help but feel like he’s struck a nerve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything, only drinking straight from the bottle and throwing out the next question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay relatively harmless for a while after that, asking surface-level questions until Hyunjin fixes him with a look he’s unable to decipher. It strikes fear into his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho-hyung,” he says sweetly, “When are we going to those dance workshops again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You motherfucker,” he chokes out, “Pass the bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows full well that Hyunjin means the classes they tried in freshman year branching from belly dancing to Spanish traditional. It’s not that big a deal, really, but they always did get compliments on how nice the long skirts they wore looked and how good they looked with their stomachs exposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s only a tiny bit embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone wanna add some context?” Seungmin asks, taking note of Changbin snorting at Minho’s stricken expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No context, none at all. It’s not important.” Minho takes his drink and moves onto asking Jeongin why he hates the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores Jisung’s gaze on him after Hyunjin’s question. It’s something he can answer later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s only fitting that we smoke tonight, don’t you think, princess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re sitting side by side on Jisung’s fire escape, legs dangling over the edge. It’s a bit cold, Minho can feel it through the hoodie he changed into, but what’s left of the alcohol is keeping him warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely, since it’s my birthday, you’d want to avoid smoking?” he teases, hooking his ankle around Jisung’s and letting his head drop to his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tonight wore me out enough to need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is right, in that sense. It’s not his birthday anymore, the party bleeding into the early hours of the morning before Hyunjin passed out and they called it a night. It’s taken a lot out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just share with me,” he says, “I don’t need my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lights the cigarette so carefully, placing it between Minho’s lips so he’ll get the first drag. The flame is pretty in the darkness, casting a gentle glow on both of their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ask me everything you wanted today?” Jisung asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho plucks the cigarette from his own lips and presses it between Jisung’s, allowing his fingers to linger. “I know everything I need to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a question for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that, baby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin asked you about workshops?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Minho flushes and hides his face in his hands, pulling his knees up from the edge and to his chest. “That.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what’s wrong?” he reaches out to pull Minho’s hands away from his face. “If it’s personal, you don’t need to tell me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not bad, Jisung,” Minho says, embarrassed, “Hyunjin and I… we used to go to these dance workshops… for different kinds of dance not offered by the university.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” he releases Minho’s wrist in favour of pulling the cigarette away from his face. “Like what</span>
  <em>
    <span>?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a big deal, Sung, it was a long time ago, I haven’t been since freshman year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really interested, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” He knows Jisung will be more than okay with it. Still, he’s a tiny bit embarrassed. “My favourite was belly dancing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, that kind of dancing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Once Jisung stops coughing, he lets his gaze wander down Minho’s frame, drifting past the hem of the hoodie and along his bare thighs, before slipping back up to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you…” he’s breathless, “Do you have videos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On my phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send them to me later,” he says, “I bet you looked amazing, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho flushes again under Jisung’s intense gaze. “It was fun. You and I should go to one sometime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Jisung exhales, smoke billowing around his face. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuffles closer, guiding Jisung’s wrist to his mouth so he can take a drag. “I’ll always dance for you, Sungie,” he mumbles after breathing out, “If you want me to be pretty, I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re already my pretty princess,” Jisung says, “I’m sure you’d look even prettier all dolled-up, though, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Jisung has caught himself, he’s returned to his usual cocky behaviour, including making Minho as flustered as he possibly can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cigarette burns out and he’s left with the butt uselessly hanging between his fingers. He stubs it on the ashtray on Jisung’s windowsill, before moving back to the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’d like that,” he says, watching Jisung reach eagerly for him. “Come, it’s getting cold. We can talk more inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel eyes on his legs as he limbs back through the window. It’s not something he’d usually enjoy — but it’s Jisung — Minho would honestly feel special no matter how he looked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t give you your actual present earlier,” he says as he moves around the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I loved the slippers?” Minho whines, climbing in next to him. “You’ve already done so much, babe, I don’t need anything more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung doesn’t answer. Instead, he pushes Minho onto his back and sits up straight, digging through his pockets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls out a chain and Minho gasps, watching him hold it up to the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung,” he breathes, “You didn’t have to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to, princess,” he says, “It’s not like I own you, but the charm was too much to pass up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hands the necklace to Minho, allowing him to examine the tiny imprinted “J” on the pendant. The heart charm catches the light from the hallway, as does the initial next to it on the chain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your princess,” he mumbles, closing his hand around the necklace and sitting up. “I love it.” God, he does. “Help me put it on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hums, easing Minho’s palm open so he can lift the chain to his milky skin. It’s cool against his chest, a slight weight as Jisung works the clasp at the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” he says, “Happy birthday, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho leans forward and brushes his lips against Jisung’s. “You know you’re everything, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they fall asleep, they’re as tangled as they always are, legs slotted together naturally and arms comfortably wrapped around each other. Jisung has a hand in his hair tonight, drifting off as he gently massages Minho’s scalp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not Minho’s birthday anymore, but at 4 AM he is as content as he thinks he’ll ever be. For now, that’s enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisung will be here soon,” Minho says, stirring his cup of tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s late.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were late, Seungmin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scoff. “Not as late as him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho turns and pushes two mugs towards Seungmin and Changbin. “He’s allowed to be late, we aren’t in a rush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would say that,” Seungmin says, tapping his foot. “I don’t want all the good pumpkins to be gone by the time we get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so dramatic, Seungmin, they’re pumpkins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door shuts behind Jisung as he strides in as though he isn’t an hour late. They all look at him briefly, willing to turn back to Seungmin’s whining before doing a double-take at Jisung. More specifically, Jisung’s outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asks, eyes flicking between the three of them as he sets the to-go tray of iced coffee down on the counter. “Have you never seen a dude in a skirt before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is, in fact, wearing a skirt. It comes down past his knees, white with orange and yellow flowers embroidered into the tulle and Minho has half a mind to cancel their double-date turned Halloween preparation outing when he notices the way it hugs his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look hot,” Seungmin says, taking a sip of his tea and turning to Minho. “You alright, hyung? You’ve gone a little pale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to sit down,” he says, stumbling over to the couch and flopping back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin snorts. “You broke him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho can practically hear Jisung roll his eyes before he’s throwing himself down next to him. “What’s wrong, princess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows Jisung is teasing him, but his poor brain is replaying the image of Jisung’s orange sweater tucked into the skirt, and how nicely compliments his blue hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a fever dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you real?” he asks, hoping for an answer that won’t send his brain over the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughs and presses a hand to Minho’s cheek, turning his face, so they’re eye-to-eye. “Do I feel real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can continue melting, Jisung is kissing him. It’s playful and easy, soft as he moves his lips against Jisung’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re barely kissing, really, Jisung smiling way too much to take Minho apart like he usually does, leaving space for giggles in between breaths and quick pecks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We really should go,” he says when they pull apart for real. “Also the ice is probably melting already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What ice?” Minho asks, tilting his head to one side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you were probably too busy drooling.” Jisung leans back to avoid the flick Minho aims at his forehead. “I got us coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho glances over at the counter, past Seungmin and Changbin, immersed in their own conversation. Sure enough, there’s a tray of four iced coffees sitting in wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just made them tea,” MInho laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungmin hates tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’m his favourite, then, because he loves it when I’m making.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungmin!” Jisung calls, hooking his chin over the back of the couch and smiling softly at the way Minho mirrors him. “Who’s tea do you prefer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks between them, snorting at the identical expression of expectation they both wear. “I thought that was obvious,” he says, looking Jisung dead in the eye. “Minho-hyung’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has the good sense to hide behind Changbin before Jisung can launch himself over the back of the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been trying to get you to come to the teahouse with me for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jisung practically yells. “And all it takes is a mug of </span>
  <em>
    <span>bush tea</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not Seungmin’s fault,” Minho says, having flopped back onto the pillows. He can’t see Jisung’s glare, but he knows it’s withering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m drinking all the iced coffee I brought,” he announces, taking the tray in his arms. “I can’t be seen drinking with traitors.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite Jisung’s claim, all four of them arrive at the pumpkin patch with their own coffee after about twenty minutes of non-caffeine related discourse centring around Seungmin’s dislike for Jisung’s driving playlist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s safe to say that they’re all pretty desperate to get out of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, that’s a lot of pumpkins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for that observation, Jisung.” Seungmin is already holding the gate open for all of them to file through, snarking at his best friend when he passes him. “Tell us the year, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you stop being an asshole?” Jisung throws back. “I can’t fight you in public.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna bet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is only held back by Minho’s hand on his wrist, Changbin echoing the movement in preventing Seungmin from straying more than half a metre away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho laughs at the pout Jisung gives him, eyebrows drawn together comically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grip on his wrist doesn’t falter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Felix didn’t specify how big these jack-o’-lanterns have to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all.” Minho is already setting his sights on the medium pumpkins further down the patch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung doesn’t let him get far. “What if— and I want you to hear me out on this— we got a really big and sexy pumpkin for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s the way he says it that has Minho halfway to the floor, encompassed by his own laughter. He clutches at his stomach, trying to catch his breath as Jisung collapses against him. It’s all too much for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think…” he leans against the fencing lining the pathway, still regulating his breathing. “I think that can be arranged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They leave Seungmin and Changbin to examine the smaller pumpkins and follow the long pathway to the larger harvest. Minho glances over at Jisung when he spots the patch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those are some fucking massive pumpkins,” he says, “How are we gonna get one of those back to the car?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m strong.” Jisung sounds unsure. He opens his mouth to say something more but is cut off before he can start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice behind them says, “But we’ve got wheelbarrows. Please don’t try to carry the pumpkins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both spin around, eyes landing on a man around their age looking particularly stressed at the thought of Jisung actually trying to take one all the way back along the path. He’s got one of the bright purple shirts on that points him out as one of the employees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, man, I’m pretty strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho has to stop him from embarrassing further and grabs his arm before he can flex. “Don’t mind him,” he laughs. “Where can we find the wheelbarrows?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man seems to relax slightly as he points them in the direction of a small shed nearby the patch. “You’ll find them in there. Once you’ve picked your pumpkin, bring it to the main office so we can ring you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having worked in retail his entire adult life, he’d be a fool not to notice the man switch to his customer service voice, however, Minho decides to do the best he can for the tired employee and give quick thanks, before pulling Jisung as far away from him as he possibly can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re insane,” he hisses, dragging him towards the shed. “Poor dude—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think I could carry it,” Jisung laughs. “Now, let’s get one of those sexy pumpkins.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They end up picking one that reaches Jisung’s knees. It’s heavier than he thinks and after almost throwing his back out completely, he lets Minho help him get it into the wheelbarrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What should we name her?” he asks as they trek back along the path to the main offices. “I was thinking something along the lines of Pamela—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t name our pumpkin, Jisung,” Minho says. “We’re gonna carve it out, don’t go getting attached to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pouts at him. “How cruel can you be?” he asks. “She can hear you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘She’ is a pumpkin, Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, Pamela.” Jisung speeds up the wheelbarrow down the path. “Minho-hyung doesn’t love you like I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho lets him get a bit ahead on the trail before jogging to catch up and wrap his arms around his waist from behind. “Stop, stop,” he giggles, keeping Jisung from moving further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung spins in his hold, sparkling eyes betraying his otherwise disappointed expression. “You hurt her feelings,” he says, throwing in a sniffle for the effect. “You’ve hurt mine, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans in and plants a quick kiss on Jisung’s lips. “Better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do that a few more times and maybe I’ll forgive you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The things I have to do.” Despite his complaints, Minho presses a few more pecks to Jisung’s waiting mouth. “There, now can we take this thing to pay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop calling her an ‘it’!” Jisung exclaims. “And you’re not forgiven yet, you’ll have to do better than that if you want to convince me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho pulls a face. “Ew, you’re so greasy.” He ignores the way Jisung tightens his grip on his waist when he laughs. “Let’s go find Seungmin and Changbin, I bet they haven’t named their pumpkin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(“Meet Maple!” “I’m gonna fucking kill you, Changbin.”)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minho’s living room floor isn’t the best place to carve out pumpkins, but it sure is the one they chose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung and Changbin pulled short straws, meaning they were tasked with the miserable feat of hauling Pamela the Pumpkin up the stairs to the apartment. This left a giggling Minho and Seungmin to carry the much smaller Maple up to the fifth floor, passing “her” between them while watching the other two struggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Minho and Jisung are kneeling around Pamela, carving a large cat face into the front — much to Seungmin’s dismay. It’s painstaking, and the room smells even after they’d opened a window, but the fun Jisung is having makes it all worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His skirt pools lazily around him, sleeves of his sweatshirt pushed up to his elbows to avoid staining it with pumpkin debris. It’s orange, though. Minho thinks he might just want to show his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m adding a heart crown,” he says, already taking his knife to the surface of the pumpkin. “You know, like a filter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hums, still working on pulling chunks from the place he assumes the eyes are. “Make them cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I look like a monster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will if you don’t make those hearts cute as hell.” Jisung waves the knife around with an exaggerated grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho laughs. “You’d never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For Pamela? You really wanna take the risk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sends them both into a fit of giggles, Jisung rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling as laughter rocks his body. The knife has been discarded next to the pumpkin and he flits his eyes to Changbin and Seungmin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your pumpkin is half the size of ours,” he says, tempting Seungmin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re carving a fucking cat face into a Halloween decoration.” He lifts their pumpkin to show Jisung. “Look. Sexy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Call him easily impressed, but Minho’s face lights up at their classic, scary design. “It’ll look great with the candle, Seungminnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you had?” Changbin asks, setting his knife down. “When we planned this, you said you had on hand? I wanna see if it’s bright enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It should be,” Minho says, “But I think they’re in the kitchen, just to check.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both give him appreciative smiles as he stands to pad towards the kitchen. If he recalls correctly, he’s got some tealights in one of the cabinets. It’s just about finding them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums a small tune under his breath as he digs through the under-sink compartment, coming up empty and leaning his forehead against the cool edge of the counter. He could have sworn he’d last used them when the power went out—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung!” he calls, pushing himself off the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can open his mouth to call again, Jisung is sauntering into the kitchen with an expression of mild confusion when he spots Minho’s flushed cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, princess?” He tilts his head to one side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “Did we…” he starts, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Did we finish the candles last month?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realisation dawns on Jisung’s face. “I’m not telling them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I want to?” Minho hisses. “God, we’re never gonna live this down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could lie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Changbin can see right through me,” he says. “No, you have to go buy them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you crazy?” Jisung looks as though he can’t believe him. “How are we gonna explain me leaving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t need to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence ensues, Minho staring Jisung down expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” He’s resigned. “I’ll be back in 15. You’re making this up to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho grabs his shirt and kisses him hard, trying not to smile against his mouth before pushing him towards the door. “Of course, I will. Now go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you found the candles yet, hyung?” Changbin calls from the living room, and Minho shoots Jisung a look that screams </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re still looking, Binnie,” he yells. “Try using your phone torch!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turns back to Jisung, all he gets is the closed door and the quiet echo of footsteps down the hallway. He wants to pout at the lack of goodbye despite knowing he’d quite literally told him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s childish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To keep himself busy— he can’t go back to the living room empty-handed— he makes a big show of digging through the cabinets, storming through to the hallway closet and scratching through the shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As predicted, he finds nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s exhausted all his options by the time Jisung sneaks up behind him. The door has never made much of a noise when opening and closing, and while he’s always considered it a plus, he reconsiders as Jisung’s cold hands snake around his waist and he jumps about a metre in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung ignores the fright he gave him. “I got the candles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. They haven’t asked where you were, yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, Seungmin’s voice rings through the apartment. “Jisung! Where the hell are you, man? Come look at this sick eye!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They share a look and stifle laughter, making their way back to the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess what I found!” Minho brandishes the box of candles like a trophy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin isn’t convinced. “It only took you, what, twenty minutes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they were in my bedroom.” This particular lie was a mistake, judging by the look Changbin throws his way. “What?” he asks, voice suspiciously innocent. “I’m scared of the dark!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh. Okay, hyung.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So we’ll see you tomorrow night?” Seungmin asks, cradling their pumpkin as if it’s a baby.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah.” Minho leans against the doorframe. “Hope you’re excited to see my costume.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t like the sound of that,” he says. “I know you’re matching with Jisung but I don’t think I’m ready to find out what that entails.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Minho just laughs, running a hand through his hair. “All I’m saying is that it’ll be hot.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re both disgusting.” He glances over his shoulder. “Looks like that’s my cue to leave. Reconsider your outfit? For my sanity?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And deprive everyone of seeing me in shorts? Not a chance.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As promised, Minho turns up at the party on Jisung’s arm, cat ears pinned carefully to his head and a pretty collar — courtesy of expedited shipping and a little desperation — fastened around his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s certain that Felix being the host is the only reason they were allowed in at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An angel opens the door, and by “an angel” he definitely means their mutual friend from performance history. Felix has a halo dangling over his forehead and glittery makeup that has Minho gushing internally. It’s painfully pretty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felix beats him to the compliment, though. “You look hot.” Minho isn’t sure which of them it’s directed at, but there’s no time for questions when Felix’s bright eyes land on their monster of a pumpkin. “Holy shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Pamela,” Jisung giggles, shifting “her” in his arms. The pumpkin is lighter now that it’s hollow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a competition but it is now and you win,” Felix says. “Come inside, Pamela will look great in the living room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They follow him through the hallway, garnering mixed reactions from people already settled and sated with drinks. Minho isn’t sure if it’s his practically bare legs or the pumpkin settled in Jisung’s arms that attracts their attention, but he shuffles closer nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here is good,” Felix says, clearing a space on the centre table. “Perfect, she’s incredible. I can’t wait to tell everyone about your award-winning pumpkin! See you around!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he runs off, Minho notices the angel wings bouncing on his back. It’s like he’s skipping between guests instead of walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chalks it up to being euphoria at lack of class on Monday. It’s not like he and Jisung aren’t equally happy, anyway. Maybe it’s just how Felix is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you thinking?” Jisung’s lips brush the shell of his ear, having to come close to hear each other over the music. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho presses closer to him, letting his arms drape over his shoulders. “Felix’s outfit is cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cuter than mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He taps his chin and adjusts the wide brim of Jisung’s witch’s hat. “Hmm… a close contender, but I think you still win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yours is the best, though,” Jisung says, squeezing his waist. “It’s cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure that cute was </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I was going for, but thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a cute little kitty.” He lifts a hand to mess with Minho’s bangs, trailing up to the cat ears. “These </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a one-time thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if they are?” Minho taunts. “What are you gonna do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung cages him against the table. “You wanna find out?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips drift closer, but he’s stopped just as he’s about to meet Minho’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you really going to desecrate Felix’s table? Already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho rolls his eyes and glances up at Jeongin and Hyunjin. “Have you seen our sexy pumpkin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one’s yours?” Jeongin asks, motioning at him to untangle himself from Jisung. “Don’t tell me it’s the—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sure is.” Jisung grins, tugging Minho towards them by his waist. “Isn’t she beautiful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me you didn’t name it.” Hyunjin gives them an unimpressed look and Minho can’t stop himself from breaking away from Jisung to throw his arms around Hyunjin’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, Hyunjin agrees with me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung returns the look and gathers Jeongin towards him. “Her name is Pamela, I can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pamela is a cute name!” Jeongin says. He’s wrestling with Jisung, trying to break free from his grasp, but the vice-grip around him holds him in place. “Let’s go do shots?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two go along,” Hyunjin says. “I’m stealing Minho for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get you a drink, baby,” Jisung directs at Minho before steering Jeongin towards the kitchen. “Don’t miss me too much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watch them weave through the crowd, Hyunjin waiting for them to be out of sight before holding Minho at arm’s length. “Let me look at you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help but blush as Hyunjin gushes about his outfit, feeling embarrassed at the attention despite the costume being his own choice. “Stop it,” he whines, batting at Hyunjin’s shoulder. “You look great, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin and Jeongin had not chosen the couple costume look— arguably due to their very ambiguous relationship— but the vampire cloak is definitely one of his better ideas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For real?” He knows he looks good. “You’re too sweet, hyung. Come, I saw Binnie-hyung near the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho lets Hyunjin lead him through the crowd, the hand on his wrist firm so as not to lose him in the masses of Felix’s friends. Changbin is at the door as expected, arm around Seungmin and conversing with a man in a werewolf costume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they come into view, Seungmin is quick to break away and throw his arms around the two of them. “Great to see you!” he says, “You both look amazing, please teach hyung about Halloween because he seems to think throwing on a pair of bunny ears is enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do, Minnie,” Hyunjin laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lee Minho, right?” His attention is pulled away by the werewolf Changbin had been talking to. “We met briefly in like… February?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho wracks his brain, trying to find traces of a curly blonde in his memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“House party?” This man cannot be the host of his and Jisung’s origin story. “Oh my god!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin speaks up. “Hi to you, too, hyung,” he says. “This is Bang Chan, in case you’ve forgotten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Minho lets Changbin pull him into his side. “I was preoccupied.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung has told me all about you, don’t worry,” Chan says, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he knows Jisung. Minho can’t believe he didn’t connect the dots sooner, because it’s quite glaringly obvious when he thinks about it. Nonetheless, he asks, “You know Jisung?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We grew up together.” Chan’s voice is easy, relaxed. “He’s like my baby brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s weird to meet such a prominent figure in Jisung’s life without him there, and while Minho is aching to know more, he’s more curious about how he’s never met Chan before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Felix?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s my boyfriend.” As if on cue, arms wrap around his waist from behind and Felix’s halo bumps his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi again, Lix,” Minho says, feeling Seungmin flank his side not pressed against Changbin. “Having fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>that, Minho-hyung,” Felix says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, in that case, I absolutely am, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chan-hyung, you should see the pumpkin Jisung and Minho-hyung brought, it’s fucking enormous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan looks at Felix like he’s everything. “Oh really? You better show me, then.” He turns to their little group. “I’ll catch you guys later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives them a wave and lets Felix drag him off, but not before he yells something at Minho about hanging out sometime. He’s nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any chance you’ve seen my idiots?” Seungmin asks, drawing away from Minho. “I haven’t said hi to them yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were heading towards the kitchen, last we saw them,” Hyunjin says. “Something about doing shots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin perks up. “I’ll go join them, then.” He squeezes Changbin’s hand. “I’ll catch you just now, hyung, someone’s gotta look after them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all know that’s Jeongin’s job,” Minho calls after him, giggling at the dirty look thrown over his shoulder. He frees himself from Changbin completely, now that the three of them are alone. “Your boyfriend asked me to critique your costume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin narrows his eyes. “And you couldn’t have just said no?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And miss up a chance to tease you?” Minho fiddles with one of the floppy ears framing his friend’s face. “No way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s cute, hyung, really,” Hyunjin says. “Just not… enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes. “Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think that little of us?” Hyunjin claws at his chest as though he’s been shot. “Come, I got heart-shaped pupil contacts with these red ones, and I’m sure hyung has makeup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we’re all set.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin grumbles as they lead him to the bathroom, bypassing the bedroom filled with university acquaintances — they’ll come back later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t think this is what Seungmin meant,” he says as Minho sits him down on the toilet. “We don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’ll be so much fun, Binnie,” Minho whines, already kneeling in front of him with the contents of his bag laid out between them. “Besides, we won’t take long, promise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin looks just about ready to commit murder, but he allows Minho to play with him while Hyunjin goes on about their latest deadline for his photography minor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho hands him over after about twenty minutes and Hyunjin is more than happy to give Changbin the contact lenses with a cheeky grin. “Seungmin better love us after this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He better love me for </span>
  <em>
    <span>letting</span>
  </em>
  <span> you do this,” Changbin corrects, regarding the contacts warily. “These aren’t gonna make my eyes fall out or something, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin laughs. “Mine haven’t, yet, so I don’t think yours will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still looks nervous but turns the package over in his hand anyway. “Alright, you win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho and Hyunjin share a triumphant look as he puts them on, clutching at each other dramatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is never happening again, is it?” Minho mumbles, letting himself relax against Hyunjin’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you whispering,” Changbin says, shutting them both up as he concentrates on blinking them into place. “There. Perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me see!” Minho grabs his shoulders and spins him around. “Oh, you’re everything.” He shows him off to Hyunjin. “Isn’t he everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so cute, Binnie-hyung,” Hyunjin says. “Seungmin is literally gonna die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin looks away to hide the flush pooling into his cheeks. “You’re both the worst. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They apologise to the line in the hallway leading to the bathroom, pulling a very embarrassed Changbin along behind them on their quest to find the others. Minho assumes they’ll be exactly where they left them: getting smashed in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As predicted, they hear Jisung, Jeongin and Seungmin before they even open the door. What they couldn’t have predicted is the way Jeongin pokes his head out, face stern before it breaks into a grin when he spots Hyunjin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the password?” His voice is cheeky, almost daring them to say the wrong thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me in?” Minho tries, giving him his best look of disinterest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeongin looks elated at their participation. “Wrong! Try again in fifteen minutes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to close the door when Jisung pops out next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we were giving them free entry?” he hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It dawns on Minho that they’re a little past tipsy. “Jisungie, let us in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pay me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me in and I will—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ,” Jeongin interrupts, “You can come in if you don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No promises,” Minho says, already being dragged through the door by Jisung. “Are you guys seriously hoarding the kitchen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We asked Felix,” Jeongin says, letting the other two in. “He said we could chill here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin hops off one of the barstools, making a beeline for Changbin and throwing his arms around him. “We were waiting for you to come back but you took </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says, “Jeongin didn’t let us drink too much, though!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they bicker, Jisung leads Minho to the centre of the kitchen, helping him up onto the counter and sliding between his legs. “Can I get you something to drink, kitten?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho rolls his eyes at the nickname, remembering the lost bet that gave Jisung one night of freedom to call him whatever he wants. “Yeah, something that’ll get me wherever you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming right up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Seungmin,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “Have you noticed our handiwork yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin looks confused before Hyunjin gestures at an embarrassed Changbin. “Oh my god! You’re incredible!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s safe to say that he’s preoccupied from there, fawning over the contact lenses and Minho’s eyeshadow job. Changbin is less than pleased at his boyfriend’s attention, but Minho decides it’s best to leave them be when Jisung finds his way back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go.” He hands him a bottle of something red and a plastic shot glass. “Drink up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He downs the shot immediately, leaving the glass next to him on the counter and hooking his ankles behind Jisung, pulling him closer. “Are you having fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hums. “The boys and I had a good time. I missed you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I met Chan,” he says, taking a sip of the drink. It’s strawberry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really?” Jisung’s fingers tighten on his waist. “And was he nice to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he said we should hang out sometime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here I was, trying to keep him and his embarrassing stories from my childhood away from you, and yet…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho presses a kiss to his lips. “Stop whining, it’ll be fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>have fun,” Jisung laughs. “Not so sure if this is for me, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, I think it’ll be fun for both of us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He already has some height on Jisung and it’s only exaggerated by his position on the counter. Still, when he leans in, the hand on his waist keeps him grounded and comfortable despite the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung tastes like cheap spirits and tobacco. He’s rougher than usual, too, mapping Minho’s thigh with his free hand, fingertips dancing along the skin left exposed between the hem of his shorts and the black thigh highs he’d bought specifically for the party. Minho doesn’t mind at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an unusual lack of complaint at their PDA and it has Minho’s head spinning, although when he looks up he realises that it’s because Seungmin and Changbin are talking near the door and Jeongin and Hyunjin are nowhere to be seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch that— Minho can hear them in the pantry. He turns back to Jisung for a quick distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they call us gross.” Jisung pulls a face at a particularly vulgar noise. “Honestly, have some shame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho giggles at the impression and takes a particularly large swig from the bottle. “I don’t think I can sit here and listen to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would take you to somewhere else,” Jisung says, getting closer so he can whisper in his ear. “But you look so good, I don’t wanna disrespect Felix’s home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to hide the shiver but to no avail, letting Jisung trail his lips along his jawline. “We could leave early?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m the greasy one.” His breath is hot on his skin. “No, I think you can wait for a bit, can’t you, kitten?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really, </span>
  </em>
  <span>wants to whine. The teasing tone has him blushing and desperate, but not enough that he’d be willing to let Jisung win. He doesn’t take into account how difficult Jisung likes making things for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need an answer, baby.” The hand on his thigh is firmer now, fingers digging in so hard Minho genuinely considers begging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lee Minho is many things. Weak is not one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he says, ignoring the way his voice shakes at Jisung’s tone. “I can wait, it’s not like I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> desperate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is decidedly unconvinced but loosens his grip and rubs at Minho’s thigh. “Good boy,” he says. “Can I get a kiss now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is more than happy to oblige, wrapping a hand around the back of Jisung’s neck to pull him in, pressing their lips together as though he’s running out of time. It’s undoubtedly his favourite way to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about Jisung feels timeless, but in the same sense, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins to reconsider his stance on holding onto his dignity when Jisung shifts the hand on his waist to cradle the back of his neck. Cool fingertips leave goosebumps rising on his skin and Minho was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> expecting him to slip under the collar and drag him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somehow,” Jisung starts, regarding him with dark eyes. “You’re even prettier like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho curses how naturally the tiny whimper falls off his lips. It’s unsurprising, but the embarrassment doesn’t part from him as Jisung does. He wants to avoid his eyes but the way his head is pulled back leaves him with little option but to meet his gaze, trying to push down the growing desire to fall apart in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could take me home then—” he chokes out, taunting him. “Just tell them I don’t feel well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think I will.” Jisung releases him. It’s more of a loss than it should be. “You said you’d be good for me, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was worth a shot. “I’m good,” he says. “I’m behaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hums. “Are you? I don’t remember good boys trying to take more than they’re given, hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho doesn’t like the way his belly drops at the condescending tone. It’s not a foreign feeling, but his urge to please Jisung is far stronger than his will to keep pushing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, he falls apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no I’m good,” he says, taking Jisung’s hand and placing it on his head. “I’ll be good, I’ll wait. Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs and runs his fingers through Minho’s hair. “There we go, was that so hard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho doesn’t respond until he tightens his hand, lost in the feeling. Even then, it’s nothing but a whine and teary eyes too tentative to hold his for long, wavering until he’s staring off to the side with his pretty mouth hanging open permanently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you can do better than that, kitten,” Jisung says, “But I guess we’ll see if you can behave until we get home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to stutter out a response when Felix pokes his head into the kitchen. “Is everyone decent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t speak for Minho-hyung and Jisung,” Seungmin says, “But mostly, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got some big games going on upstairs, thought I’d invite you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho wants to refuse, but a very dishevelled Hyunjin and a smug Jeongin make their way out of the pantry and he thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>it can’t actually be that bad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>When Jisung turns to get his confirmation, he’s already sliding off the counter and into his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fun,” he says. “Besides, I can wait, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung lets an easy smile bloom across his face. “Whatever you say, princess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minho doesn’t quite remember how they ended up sitting on Felix’s bedroom floor, but he’s leaning into Jisung’s side and surrounded by at least twenty students of varying degrees of familiarity with a bottle in the middle of the circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It has yet to land on him and his head is positively fuzzy from the continuous stream of drinks in coolers around the house. They’ve definitely done the job of taking the edge off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doubts they’ll be playing for much longer. Jisung has taken to placing kisses along the side of his throat and he’s just about ready to pull him into the hallway and pick up where they left off in the kitchen. Unfortunately for both of them, fate is not on his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The neck of the bottle is pointing directly at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minho looks up, admittedly dazed, he makes eye contact with Seungmin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungmin tries to laugh it off and asks to spin again, but to no avail. Jisung’s arm had momentarily tightened around Minho’s shoulder before he was reminded that it is, in fact, a game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, Seungminnie.” Minho, beyond tipsy and a self-proclaimed clingy drunk, is fine with meeting him halfway and pecking him on the lips in what could only be considered friendly. He’s back under Jisung’s arm in no time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only it was that simple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, this is boring,” Felix announces after a few rounds. “Let’s play seven minutes in heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung scoffs. “Only if we get to choose who goes in with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s literally not how it works, Jisung.” Minho doesn’t recognise the girl who says it, but Jisung’s eye roll says he does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine, I’ll alter the rules this once.” Felix sounds annoyed before Chan pokes at his side, pulling the smile back to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung seems satisfied and settles back against the wall. His arm isn’t around Minho anymore, but their hands are laced together in his lap. It’s comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could just go,” he whispers, turning to hide his face in Jisung’s neck. “It’s not a big deal… I’m sure there’s a room free somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is so much more fun, princess,” Jisung says, “And besides, you’re cute when you’re in a rush.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho makes no attempt to hide the shiver that runs through him at his tone, choosing instead to tighten his grip on Jisung’s hand and tuck his face further away, not wanting to be caught by the group in such a state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that big a deal, really, but even beyond being embarrassed, there are no downsides to being almost fully in-contact with Jisung. He lets it go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, folks, you all know the drill.” Felix places the bottle back in the middle. “Intervals between victims can be truth or dare. You can use the linen closet down the hall. Please be decent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho tries not to be offended at the side-eye Hyunjin gives him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s going first, Lix?” he asks, turning his attention away from his own growing embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll spin the bottle first, whoever it lands on gets to go.” He’s already shuffling forward to spin. “Reminder to be decent around my sheets, I don’t have time for laundry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first few rounds see people Minho barely knows sent to the cramped hallway closet. They also see him doing a handstand, albeit shaky and giggle-punctuated, and Jisung and Seungmin recounting a fight with Jeongin as the referee. He almost forgets the objective of the game entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, before the bottle lands on Jisung and his eyes darken. Fingers wrap around his wrist and drag him up, barely giving him enough time to wave goodbye to the group before he’s tugged out of the room completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, come on,” Jisung says under his breath, dragging a disoriented Minho down the hallway to their destination. He makes a noise of approval at how easily the door opens. “After you, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s given up on calling him ‘kitten’, reverting back to his old habit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, it’s dark in here,” Minho says, already backed into a corner as Jisung shuts the door. “Felix really should invest in some li—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rough, needy lips cut him off, pressing against him with enough enthusiasm to make his head spin. Jisung’s fingertips dig hard into his waist and he’s almost certain it’ll bruise, especially with the amount of force he’s exerted to keep him pressed against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has no time to catch himself, completely held up by the strong grip on his waist and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s a hand hooking under his thigh to rest comfortably around Jisung’s waist. Fingertips fall between the fabric of his shorts and thigh highs, leaving his hair standing on end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s hands are almost always cold, so Minho can’t comprehend how he can make him feel as though he’s on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasps as Jisung trails his lips down his neck, much more intentional than the mindless kisses he’d peppered on his skin in Felix’s bedroom. No, this is hard and biting, bruising him for what he knows will be days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it was just a game,” he says against Minho’s jaw, “But I think I’ll kill Seungmin if that ever happens again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho feels a pang in his chest. They aren’t even dating but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung doesn’t take kindly to sharing. If his mind wasn’t clouded with alcohol and the absolutely sinful movement of Jisung’s mouth, he might find a way to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>you are everything. You are my everything and I don’t want to spend yet another day wondering if what we have is real. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>make me yours. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wants to scream it until his lungs ache because </span>
  <em>
    <span>god, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Minho feels like he’s drowning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except he doesn’t. Nothing comes out when he opens his mouth beyond heavy breathing and high mewls as Jisung reminds him that he belongs to no one but him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wishes it was more tangible, real. Unfortunately, he’s not sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> is something Jisung has to offer</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jisung invited Minho to watch his last match of the year, he really should have anticipated the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna be okay here?” he asks, sitting Minho down in the stands a bit away from the ring. “Coach is calling us in, but Seungmin said—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, babe, I know,” Minho laughs, taking Jisung’s hands and giving them a squeeze. “Hyunjin and Changbin will be here soon. Go, I’ll be fine, you’ll be great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s hesitant, but Minho gives him a reassuring smile, trying to hide his own unease at the intensity of the groups of people surrounding him. Jisung finally seems to convince himself to let him out of his sight after one long, worried glance and manages to disappear into the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is grateful he’s not as close to the ring as he could be. He can see people gathering and as much as he wants to see Jisung up-close, there’s more comfort in hiding near middle instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flicks through his Twitter feed for what seems like the hundredth time. Nothing has changed since the last time he did but it sure is better than focusing on the steadily increasing volume of the gym as spectators file through the entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if he would have come at all if he’d known how overwhelming the event itself would be, allows his thoughts to drift down a path of how else he could have spent his Friday evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. He’d never do that to Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is about to try calling Hyunjin, hoping to get an approximate time of when they’d arrive to put him out of his misery, however, he’s beat to it by two figures plopping down into the seats in front of him and turning immediately to meet his somewhat spaced-out gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Jisung left you alone without a good reason I’m gonna kill him.” He and Felix have never been particularly close, but a shared dance class can pull even worst enemies to a begrudging friendship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, it’s never been forced between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin and Changbin are on their way,” he laughs, a feeble attempt at hiding the quake in his voice. “And besides, he didn’t have much choice. He had to go get ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan is significantly easier to convince than Felix. He offers Minho a big smile and to come and sit next to him while he waits, leaving him happily sandwiched between the two of them. Minho makes a mental note to make plans with him again, their library sessions have been fun and Chan is crazy good at note-taking, but he’d quite like to treat him to coffee after he helped him pass a class that’s been kicking his ass for months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about all this,” he says to Chan when Felix skips off to buy them milkshakes. “It’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t be this freaked out—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Minho, it’s okay,” Chan says, draping his arm over the backs of the chairs. “I know you think you’re inconveniencing us, but really, you aren’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho can tell he wants to say more but is interrupted by a group of girls trying to get past them. The moment is over by the time they manage to get all of them through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Minho feels a lot safer than before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Changbin and Hyunjin show up, Jisung is getting ready to enter the ring. They sneak up behind the seats he’s in and while he’d initially planned to have them trade places with Chan and Felix, he’s more focused on the red of Jisung’s gear than the hand on his shoulder saying they’re right behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho can see Seungmin and Jeongin off to the side, matching grins on their faces as he greets his opponent. Their matches are over already, as are the rest of the team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows it’s not uncommon for Jisung to end the event, especially with his track record, but Minho can’t help but feel the ongoing tension rise in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung ducks into the ring, arrogant as ever and rightfully so. The cocky smirk he’d worn since he left the changerooms has fallen, but Minho would know the glint in his eye anywhere. It seems Seungmin and Jeongin are just as familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear the announcer — it’s hard not to with the speakers the university splurged on when they redid the gym — but he’s not really listening. All he can do is focus on the spring in Jisung’s step and the evident lack of it in his opponent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a painfully easy win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho had never realised how long matches were, even with the short intervals between rounds. They’re nearing the end now, though, and Jisung looks about ready to call it a day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His opponent put up a good fight. It’s evident that Jisung isn’t used to being challenged, and certainly on such a large scale, but it’s clear as day that he’ll come out victorious. Nonetheless, Minho is on the edge of his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s already won, hyung,” Felix says, leaning into his side so he can hear him better. “No need to be nervous, this match is his.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easier said than done, Minho’s leg continues to bounce right up until the moment the match ends and Jisung’s arm is held up over his head. It’s cliche to say the crowd goes wild but he’s certainly on his feet in seconds, screaming his lungs out. He knows the look of pride on Jisung’s face and while he’s riddled with exhaustion, his eyes land on Minho and everything stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything except the massive, re-energised smile that spreads across his face at the sight of him, beaming out at the crowd in what could only be described as the picture of joy, happiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho wants to imprint this moment in his mind so he can remember Jisung as his happiest. The pang of realising he’s in love has long since faded to a dull ache, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels falling in love with him all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Funnily enough, there’s not a single thing he’d change.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t as intense as I expected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of these days I’ll take you to an actual fight.” Jisung squeezes Minho’s thigh. “That’ll give you a real taste for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re driving down the highway in Jisung’s rover, Minho relieving him of his ever-present control over the wheel for one night.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(“You’re tired; let me drive.” “I always drive, though, princess.” “And I won’t tell anyone that you are, in fact, human.”)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was difficult, to say the least, but he’s got him confined to the passenger seat, dirty combat boots kicked up on the dashboard and leaning half over the centre console to keep his hands on Minho. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re heading to his favourite roadside fast food joint as a treat for his victory. The highway is unsurprisingly quiet after rush hour, and while Minho was ready to take Jisung to bed and fall asleep tangled in the sheets, he figures this will be just as nice. An exhausted Jisung doesn’t always bode well for dates, but he can make an exception just this once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See that gas station?” Jisung lifts his hand not preoccupied with Minho’s thigh to point at an off-ramp. “At that stop, you’ll find God’s favourite burgers and fries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho takes it as a cue to cross lanes and head towards the stop. It’s run down and kinda dingy with self-service gas, but the red neon sign points him in the direction of the parking spaces near the door. There isn’t anyone else around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we get murdered—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shoves him lightly. “We aren’t gonna get murdered; I come here all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is still sceptical but allows Jisung to coax him out of the car — if coax means he got out and Jisung called him like a cat, hand stretched out in front of him with a tone of voice saved for babies, small animals and, apparently, Lee Minho. Nonetheless, he lets himself be coddled, even though he’s pretty sure his original intentions involved events playing out the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you wanna get?” Jisung asks, swinging their hands between them as they push through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” He’s curious as to what keeps Jisung coming back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One cheeseburger with fries coming right up,” he says, leaving Minho at one of the barstools looking out onto the road while he goes to place their orders. It’s eerie, but the black of Jisung’s car is familiar, as is the hoodie he’d enveloped himself in as soon as they’d left the gym.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the dark green one. He knows he’s safe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We could eat in here.” Jisung passes him the warm paper bag in favour of holding their peach soft drinks close to his chest. “Or I know a lookout spot near here? If you’re up for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a stupid question. Minho has never been good at saying no to Jisung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they’re back on the road, Jisung’s dumb boots leaving scuff marks all over his own dashboard. He’s sure to complain about it in a few weeks time, but Minho doesn’t waste his energy telling him to sit like a person. Instead, he lets him pull his leg closer. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but sure does spark something akin to joy in Jisung as he taps out a melody on his inner thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The stars are great from out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your windscreen is too dirty to see the sky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think I’m taking you to a vantage point to sit in the car?” Jisung sounds mildly affronted. “Not a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisungie it’s cold,” Minho draws it out into a whine. “You’re already tired, what if you get sick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine; the cold’s got nothing on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho disagrees, but if Jisung is hellbent on getting sick, there’s nothing he can do to stop him. At least he’s bundled up in the hoodie, warm and thick and honey-scented like Jisung’s hair. It’s enough to keep the cold out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For someone whose hands have been consistently cold throughout their entire friendship, Jisung is pretty damn good at keeping heat in. Minho assumes it’s all the exercise and possibly the fact that he wholly believes he’s above being cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’s honest, that’s probably it entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take us right to the edge of the cliff, princess,” Jisung says when they pull off the tarmac and onto the grass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho takes them as close as he’s comfortable, appreciating the railing serving as a barrier between them and certain death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can eat in here if you want?” Jisung is already leaning into the back to grab their treasure in the form of a brown paper bag. It’s still surprisingly warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho makes a show of sipping at his peach soda, pulling the straw out enough to make an obnoxious slurping noise. It gains him a chuckle, still tired but so full of life it makes his heart hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chan and Felix really helped earlier,” he says between bites of his burger, trying to cut through the silence. “Felix got me a milkshake and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hums. “I saw you with them. Did I tell you that Chan’s doing psychology?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve studied with him, silly.” Minho throws a fry at him. “You didn’t tell me, but I do know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung scoffs and ignores the attack, dipping the fry in his small container of ketchup. “He’s good like that— with people, I mean— I’m glad you’re getting along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan is very obviously important to Jisung, especially having grown up together. Minho has found himself so drawn to him already, and from what Jisung tells him, he’s not the only one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settle back into silence, but it’s less uncomfortable now. Minho can see the way Jisung’s eyes droop and wonders how he manages to make looking exhausted something effortless, enviable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all honesty, he doesn’t see him this subdued very often but unline the other times he’s watched him go low, this isn’t a symptom of spiralling as much as it is a method of him opening himself up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is pretty sure the vulnerability has something to do with the burgers and the fries and the fact that they’re at a city vantage point with his headlights down low. He wonders if Jisung comes here often. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch that — he knows Jisung comes here often. What’s confusing him is his own presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did Jisung bring him here?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t mean to feel like he’s tumbling down the cliff face when Jisung pushes back his sweater paw to press his lips to his knuckles, but his heart does lurch and race right out of his chest. He can’t stop thinking of how easy it would be for Jisung to feel his pulse if he wrapped his fingers around his wrist or pressed the tips, ever unforgiving, into the sensitive skin just below his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung has been compared to a wildfire by others, and a hearth by Minho himself, but maybe this tired and warm version of him as he stalls getting out the car could be likened to embers left behind after a bonfire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot enough to burn, but giving off a softer warmth. Embers are tender, longing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, does Minho long for him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hood of the car should be warm enough from the engine,” Jisung says. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho nods softly, pulling the sleeves further over his hands and bracing for the cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just as cold as at the rest stop, but this time he’s quick to find Jisung again and settle into his side on the hood, leaning back against the windshield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen a shooting star before,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung pulls him closer, letting Minho’s head rest on his outstretched arm. “I’m pretty sure you will tonight.” He’s warm beyond his cool palms, something of a personal space heater. “I’ll point one out to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho hums and pulls their joined hands closer to him. “You an expert or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he says. Minho can hear his smile. “And I’m up here enough to know they’re not exactly uncommon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes his word for it, letting Jisung point out constellations for him every now and again. It’s punctuated with silence, an unfamiliar silence that forces Minho to consider how far they actually are from the road. This kind of silence isn’t something he needs to fill, not with Jisung’s arm around him and the warmth from the engine against his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t see a shooting star. Jisung is particularly miffed about it, but Minho can’t bring himself to mind. It really is enough to go from curled up next to him on the hood to curled around him in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He figures this must be what it feels like to love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only he could guarantee that the feeling is mutual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not getting my point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho leans back in his desk chair and gazes at Changbin, watching him pace up and down the length of the room. It’s been hours since he started ranting. Long hours that show no end in sight despite the words of encouragement offered by both himself and Hyunjin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you need to consider that maybe you’re just bad at Monopoly, hyung,” Hyunjin says, “It’s not like you’re not good at everything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, Hyunjin.” Minho spins in his chair to face the bed and his sprawled out figure. “He’s mad that he lost his and Seungmin’s thirty-six-hour game—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t lose!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, Binnie,” he says, “You just stopped playing, absolutely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin snorts. “I bet you he went bankrupt and that’s why he’s so mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t go bankrupt, you menace.” If Changbin had been holding anything in his hands, Hyunjin would already be screaming about the velocity with which he threw it. “Seungmin and I are equally as good at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why did you lose, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin looks ready to strangle Minho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, you’re allowed to be bad at things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not bad at Monopoly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho taps the table with the gavel from his high school years as the debate team captain. “Heading into the fifth hour of Changbin has issues with his relationship, but does he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin shoots him a dirty look. “Seungmin and I don’t have relationship issues, it’s just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have commitment issues and playing Monopoly for thirty-six hours hit you like a bus?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho and Changbin both round to gape at Hyunjin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ve figured it out, Jinnie!” Minho cheers, “It only took five hours but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungmin and I have been dating for longer than hyung has been not-dating Jisung,” Changbin says, ignoring the noise of disapproval from Minho. “Why would you think I have commitment issues?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, maybe ‘commitment issues’ was the wrong way to phrase it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intimacy issues?” Minho offers. He’s gone back to staring at the ceiling and spinning in his chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, that’s the one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin doesn’t look convinced. “If you want me to dive into the details of my sex life, then I totally can—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, no,” Hyunjin says, “Second of all, do you really think sleeping with Seungmin is the only way to be intimate with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You explain it, Minho-hyung.” Hyunjin flops back on the bed from where he’d propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m too tired for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think I can explain it?” He knows exactly how to explain it, but having his main source of entertainment snatched away from him sours his mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who has a way with words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, if I have to hear about Jisung one more time today—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you both shut up?” Changbin’s voice is louder than both of theirs, despite their rapidly increasing volume. “One of you explain what Hyunjin meant, and once you’ve done that, you can sort out whatever shit you’ve got on your chest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho sighs. “This isn’t over,” he aims at Hyunjin before turning to Changbin. “You’re scared of letting Seungmin in because you’re terrified of vulnerability.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not scared of vulnerability? I’m great at being vulnerable, look, I’m doing it right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin is most certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing it right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been friends for eight years, and I can count the number of times you’ve been vulnerable with me on one hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffs. “I think you’re reading into it too much, Seungmin and I are fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then go home?” Hyunjin says. Another good point considering Changbin has been sleeping on his couch for the past two days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks affronted. “Seungmin is at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you should be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin is very obviously still processing the news of his own relationship issues and has halted his pacing, staring out the window with a dazed look in his eye. “Do you think he’s still there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung is with him,” Minho says. “They’re watching movies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go home later.” He’s made up his mind. “And yes, before you say anything, I’ll talk to him about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, we want you to be happy,” Hyunjin sighs. “And that means talking to him when you’re overwhelmed instead of running away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Changbin rolls his eyes. “Fine. Now, you two need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho’s head shoots up, his confusion mirrored by Hyunjin. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means Hyunjin isn’t very slick at hiding—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, hyung, I’ll take it from here.” Hyunjin flops back, so he’s lying down. “You need to sort out whatever shitty arrangement you and Jisung have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung and I are perfectly fine—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep saying that!” Minho can tell by his tone that he’s had this bottled up for a while. “But you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hyung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are?” It’s a low blow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyunjin raises a finger. “Don’t deflect. This isn’t about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think what Hyunjin is trying to say is that we’re worried.” Changbin has stored away their conversation about Seungmin in favour of launching an attack on Minho. “I’m not exactly sure how Hyunjin feels, but I can say it really sucks to see you pining after him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hasn’t he hurt you enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho is silent. He’s always had a sneaking suspicion that Hyunjin held a grudge against Jisung for leaving. Unfortunately, this only serves to prove him right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunjin.” His tone is measured. “When are you going to stop hating him for what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to hand it to him, holding his gaze steadily as though he’s willing to go down for this win. Minho knows he’s not. Nonetheless, he takes a breath before speaking again, seemingly choosing each and every word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll admit that it’s on me for holding it against him,” he says, “But it’s on </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>for letting it continue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try and see it from our perspective, hyung,” Changbin tries. “You were shattered by him leaving, and then he came back and I get that you forgave him, hell, I certainly did, but you can’t force Hyunjin to do the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho feels defeated. He slumps back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with his head filled to the brim with memories from the past year. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the tension in the room dissipate, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence they’re all too afraid to break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, it’s Minho that takes the plunge. “I’ll talk to him,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry… for everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve always been on the touchier side, so he’s less than surprised when Changbin is the one to pull him off the desk chair and into a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s enough vulnerability for one day,” he laughs. Minho loves that Changbin brings him down to his height when they hug. It’s warm and all-encompassing, like warm nights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Minho loves chilly days in front of the fire, he suddenly realises that there’s enough space in his heart for warm breezes and summer evenings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The day it happens, he hasn’t seen Jisung for a week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all decided to take some time to recuperate after classes ended, and Minho and Jisung were no different. He had been promised dates and cuddles after their rest period, but it was well needed after such an intense year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung isn’t meant to be over for a few more hours, plans to spend the weekend together, lazing around Minho’s apartment are something he’s definitely looking forward to; however, the barrier between worry and anticipation becomes blurry when he opens his door at 2 AM to find Jisung in the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, princess,” he says, obviously dazed. “You could say I was eager to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho finds himself in shock as he tries to take in Jisung’s appearance. For one, he’s covered in glitter. Gold — pretty against his skin but confusing, to say the least. He then notices the fact that Jisung is looking dreadfully beat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” he breathes, putting a hand to Jisung’s cheek. “What on earth have you gotten yourself into?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should see the other guy,” he says. “Can we go inside? I kinda feel like I’m about to drop dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worry brews in his stomach as he leads Jisung down the hallway. It’s not abnormal for him to get involved in fights; he knows this by now. There’s just something… different… about the way he’s carrying himself, less arrogant and victorious than he’s used to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s unnerving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho pushes open the bathroom door and helps Jisung up onto the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck happened?” he asks, digging through the cabinets for the first aid kit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung’s voice is distant when he responds. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho pours copious amount of alcohol onto a cotton pad. “The fuck do you mean ‘don’t worry’? You’re a fucking mess, Jisung!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is silent, looking down at his glitter-covered hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs, lifting the cotton to Jisung’s eye. Minho can’t help but wince at his tiny hiss of pain and cups his cheek with his spare hand, feeling the way Jisung’s skin gives under his palm. He hopes it’s comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve been getting a lot more comfortable with silence lately, but there’s tension in the air as Minho soothes Jisung with the hand on his face, thumb gently caressing the soft skin of his cheek. Jisung has taken to holding onto Minho’s wrist with one hand and gripping the counter with the other, knuckles white under the gold-flecked surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s another thing: he’s leaving glitter </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, including the skin of his wrist. Minho makes a mental note to ask about that later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” he sighs, moving onto the last cut. “This one’s a pretty gnarly one, so this is definitely gonna hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung has regained most of his cocky attitude, nodding at what Minho says calmly, though there’s something behind his eyes that Minho can’t quite place. It’s undoubtedly alien to the arrogant look he usually carries himself with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums, raising a fresh cotton pad to Jisung’s jawline. It’s ugly, something that definitely would have taken a knife to make. Minho curls in on himself internally at the thought of someone trying to hurt him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You're an idiot; you know that, right?" Minho whispers into the small space between them as he cleans the cut on Jisung's jaw. “You could have really been hurt tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hums, pushing forward on the bathroom counter and decreasing the gap between them until it's barely even there. "I may be an idiot, baby," he says, tilting Minho's chin up with a finger, "But you know I always win."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho relaxes into the familiar hold, Jisung’s cold fingertips leaving goosebumps forming under his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a shaky breath against Jisung's lips and scrambles to regain control over his spotless mind, returning his attention to the wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung doesn't pull his hand away. Instead, he moves it from Minho's chin to rest at the base of his neck, thumb dipping just past the loose fabric of the shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I missed you, princess,” he says, fiddling with the hem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know you don’t need to get fucked up to see me," Minho whispers, looking down at where his hand rests on Jisung's thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “I know… I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho doesn't look up at him, working at the wound with the cotton pad and avoiding Jisung’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can always come to me, Sung,” he says, “God, I know it scares me, but I’d rather see you like this than have you hide it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is silent as Minho places the bandage over the cut. He rubs gentle, soothing circles into his skin, feeling his panic rising as the adrenaline from finding Jisung bleeding on his doorstep wears off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fine, princess,” he says. “You’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho rests his forehead on Jisung’s glitter-spotted shoulder, a whimper slipping from between his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he mumbles, “I just— I know you know what you’re doing, but I’m scared for you, Jisung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He uses his finger to tilt Minho’s chin up again, forcing them eye to eye. “Hey, look at me, angel,” he whispers, “I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho’s lip wobbles, eyes glossy. He still feels the ache in his chest, but it’s much less crushing with Jisung holding him. It’s all so gentle, even with his bruised knuckles, Jisung is careful and soft with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he always is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With all the energy Minho has left, he surges forward and plants his lips on Jisung’s. It’s short, not quite sweet, but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>different </span>
  </em>
  <span>to any of the countless kisses they’ve shared before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back, finding Jisung’s eyes and immediately relaxing under his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The space between them is minuscule, and Jisung’s hands have loosened on his face, no longer pressing into his soft cheeks. His eyes sparkle in the lowlight of the bathroom, and one hand falls to Minho’s waist, bunching the oversized shirt and pulling him closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re perfect,” he mumbles, running his thumb over Minho’s lips and smiling at the way they drop open for him. “You’re absolutely perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Jisung presses his lips back against Minho’s, heavier and harder, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is something he knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He pushes himself off the bathroom counter and backs Minho up, smiling at the little </span>
  <em>
    <span>“oof”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he makes when his back collides with the drywall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever they kiss, Minho feels as though the world is stopping. Their lips fit together like they were made for each other — they always have — and Jisung’s always known how to make him weak at the knees, knows him like the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s something he’s grown to crave, to chase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although they're at Minho's apartment, Jisung is his true home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung slides a hand into his hair, giving a practised tug on the long red strands and grinning at how naturally he tips his head back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You in there, princess?” he asks, squeezing Minho’s waist. “We should…” he glances at the door. “It’s getting late, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please stay,” Minho breathes against his lips, “We— we don’t have to do anything, just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just what, baby?” Jisung whispers, toying with Minho’s shirt, bunched up at his side and revealing his bare legs. “You gotta tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Minho starts, “I don’t want you going out, not like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is about to question what he means when he remembers the dull sting on his jawline. He’d forgotten his injuries in his Minho induced haze and the absence of his lips has left him crashing back down to earth rather unceremoniously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Of course, baby,” he says, “Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho’s eyes soften and he brings himself closer, “Please don’t leave.” His voice is softer now, smaller.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could never.” he tugs lightly at Minho’s hair again. It really shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. "Now, let's go, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go where?” Minho asks, voice a little distant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung giggles and taps his cheek. “We’re gonna go sleep now, princess,” he says. “Lead the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho takes him through the familiar hallway. He does so quietly, even though they have the apartment to themselves and pushes a door open, pulling Jisung inside and letting it close behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His bedroom is just as Jisung remembers it, right down to the photograph of Minho with Changbin and Hyunjin on the nightstand. Familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” he says, patting his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gimme a moment,” Minho says, digging through the drawers of his closet. “Aha! Here we go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He emerges triumphantly with a clump of red fabric. “Here,” he tosses it onto the bed next to Jisung. “What were you saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung tugs his glitter-covered shirt off and drops it to the floor. “I was telling you to come here, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shuffles over to the bed and places his thighs on either side of Jisung’s, shifting in his lap until he’s comfortable. “Do I get kisses now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Demanding,” he laughs, resting their foreheads together for a moment. His hand leaves its position on Minho’s thigh to tug the shirt over his head. Once he’s clothed, he brings a hand up to caress the expanse of Minho’s neck, trailing a knuckle over the dips of his collarbone left exposed by the stretched fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been deprived all week, Jisungie,” Minho whines. He’s shifting in his lap like he has the energy to spare — he doesn’t — and his eyes practically scream his need for attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung doesn’t give up, instead, he trails his hand down Minho’s spine, sending a shiver through him. It’s cute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses an experimental kiss to his shoulder, shifting the oversized shirt to make room for him to continue pulling the prettiest gasps from Minho’s lips. There’s no way to deny that he’s extra sensitive tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harder, messier kisses to his skin have him practically writhing in Jisung’s hold. The hand that isn’t on Minho’s back holds the base of his neck, thumb pressing into the space next to his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Minho breathes, searching for something to ground himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what, princess?” he asks, taking a moment away from Minho’s neck to look him in the eyes. “What do you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just—” he laces his fingers behind Jisung’s neck and tries to pull him into a kiss, whining when he’s dodged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung lets out a little laugh at the noise. “Hold on, baby,” he says, cupping Minho’s jaw and thumbing the corner of his mouth. “I think you’re tired. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho shakes his head, kneading the skin of his own thigh absentmindedly. “No work, took the weekend because you’re here,” he mumbles, eyes drooping. His conversation with Hyunjin and Changbin flashes across his mind. “I need to talk to you about something, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll talk, I promise,” Jisung responds. “But right now you need to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna stay up with you.” Minho’s voice is a lot sleepier than Jisung thought. He must have come crashing down a little harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right next to you.” Jisung kisses him. “I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten more minutes,” Minho gives him big, shiny eyes, pleading with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung sighs, tightening the hand on his jaw and pulling him forward. “You’re trying your luck, princess,” he ghosts against his lips, “Ten minutes, then bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods eagerly and melts in Jisung’s arms, letting him flip them so he’s hovering above Minho, lips trailing along his neck once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gasps escaping him are enough to send Jisung’s brain into overdrive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's got one hand planted next to Minho's head, the other sliding up his leg— so gentle, but at the same time, firm enough to coax the prettiest noises from his lips. "Easy, baby," he says, "What did I say about getting all worked up?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho wants to sulk, but he can already feel himself fighting to stay awake. He pulls Jisung down into a soft kiss, so much sweeter than the others. It’s comfortable. There’s barely time for him to try move his mouth against Jisung’s because sleep is grabbing at him and he’s unable to open his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he hears before his body goes limp is a distant chuckle, accompanied by what feels like lips against his forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Minho wakes to something prodding at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s inclined to ignore it, to roll over and go back to sleep, but the thought of Jisung fills his mind. Jisung in his bed. Jisung, who he hasn’t seen for an entire week. Jisung who definitely shouldn’t be in his bed yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he groans, lifting his head from the pillow to glare blearily at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung just grins and points at his chest, lifting his other finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. Minho shoves his hair back in irritation, scowling at the cat curled up happily on Jisung’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She likes you so much,” he mumbles. As much as he wants to be grumpy about it, Minho loves that quite possibly the most important person in his life has managed to tame his number one menace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not just Minho’s half-asleep brain that coos at the way Jisung treats Doongie. He’s absolutely besotted with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s the fact that Jisung looks at both him and Doongie with the same absolute adoration in his eye that contributes to the silence that follows. Jisung is petting her so gently but even his hand stills at the blanket of tension that’s fallen over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It could also be the fact that Minho is hopelessly and desperately in love with him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it too early to talk?” Minho asks. He’s still mumbling, trying to get his brain to function while simultaneously stressing himself sideways over what he’s about to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung manoeuvres Doongie off of his chest and onto Minho’s, settling himself onto his knees. He tilts his head to one side, expectant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m in love with you,” he says, not wanting to prolong it any further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flash of confusion in Jisung’s eyes would be enough to send him spiralling had he not just woken up. “Uhm… I sure would hope so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that takes Minho by surprise. “I don’t think you get it, I’m in love with you and I’m tired of pretending to be friends with all the benefits of boyfriends and none of the labels — </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like labels, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jisung</span>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minho-hyung,” he tries to interrupt, but Minho raises his finger signalling he’s nowhere near finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re everything,” he says. “You already know I think the world of you, Jisung, and I feel so selfish to ask but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> you to say you’re mine. Beyond us being friends that fool around a lot and kiss and go on dates </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I’m being so ridiculous? I know!” Minho is breathing shallowly now, trying to catch his breath but to no avail. “I should be happy, right? We’ve been doing this for a whole year I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m not happy but I need to hear you say it. I’ve loved you for so long, Jisung, God, I don’t even know where or when I started but I’m here and you’re in my bed and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop talking.” Jisung reaches over and carefully lifts a frazzled Doongie off of Minho’s chest. Once she’s out of the way, he climbs on top of him, taking his twitching and fidgeting hands in his own and pinning them to the bed. “Princess,” he says gently. “Did you really not know we were dating?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what?” Minho is just about ready to shut down. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re so smart but you can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> dumb sometimes.” Jisung’s eyes are endlessly fond. “Baby, of course we’re dating. Of course I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho blinks up at him, close to tears. “You— you never told me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you knew!” Jisung sounds as though he can’t believe his ears. “You know all my friends! We go on dates all the time, baby, you’re literally wearing a necklace with my initial on it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So all this time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely.” He loosens his grip on Minho’s wrists and leans down to kiss him. He kisses his features like he’s meant to be treasured. “I can’t believe you didn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho tries to pull his hands completely free to cover the blush bleeding into his cheeks but unfortunately Jisung — his </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend </span>
  </em>
  <span>— knows him too well and keeps them steady on the sheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” he mumbles, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not like you told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Princess, if I knew you thought we were just friends, you know I would have said something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m very good at hiding things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung laughs. “What, like the fact that you're in love with me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had Minho been free to slap his arm, he definitely would have. Unfortunately, he’s forced to settle for rolling his eyes in an attempt to draw attention away from his flushed face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, princess, it’s cute that you thought you were sneaky.” He releases him to flop down on the bed, leaving Minho’s lap cold and empty. “You weren’t, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans and rolls over to hide his face in the pillow. “God, you’re the worst!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you’re in love with me, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately.” The fabric muffles Minho’s voice. “Yeah, I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Jisung says, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him, so his back is flush against his chest. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span> love you, too. Now, go back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if my </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span> promises to make me breakfast later,” he says cheekily. This boyfriend thing is definitely something he could get used to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung is already halfway to sleep. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, just shut up now, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minho dozes off with a million thoughts on his mind. Some revolve around the morning sun beginning to stream through the gap in his curtains, some around Doongie, curling up next to his face on the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only one he can bring himself to care about, though, are the ones of Jisung and his warm arms wrapped around his waist. Yeah, his cold hands are pressed against Minho’s stomach, and they’re kind of stealing the warmth he’s guarded so carefully, held close to his chest like his own personal treasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t mind sharing with Jisung, though. He doesn’t mind at all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(jisung is covered in glitter because he got into a fight with a gang of buff as hell fairies.) ((he won.))</p><p> <span class="small">talk to me on my <a href="https://twitter.com/linohjs">twitter</a> or send me something neat in my <a href="https://curiouscat.me/lmhjs">curiouscat</a>.</span><br/><br/><span class="small">→ i hope you liked minho. he's a darling. jisung is a smug bastard and should be held accountable for his actions, but alas, i've never been very good saying no to him. he is the way he is because of me and you can fight with me about that in my <a href="https://curiouscat.me/lmhjs">cc</a>.</span><br/><span class="small">→ this fic was fun to write. in all honesty, i started it because i didn't want to work on another bingo fill and then it took a lot longer than it should have and definitely exceeded my own expectations. i hope it did the same for you.</span><br/><span class="small">→ a big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnshine">dawnshine</a> for being my wonderful beta reader. my life is yours.</span><br/><span class="small">→ card requests for <a href="https://twitter.com/minsungbingo">minsung bingo</a> are closed as of now, but please do support the works posted. a big thank you to the mod for running this event.</span><br/><span class="small">→ <b>i am well aware of the loose ends i left and i assure you that they are intentional. there's a lot left open for if i choose to expand on this universe in the future. if i don't, it's important to understand that this was meant to be realistic and unfortunately not everything can be tied off perfectly, and not every friendship has a happy ending (and the ending of this fic does not mean the end of them as characters. they exist beyond the year-long time frame i've outlined).</b></span><br/><br/><span class="small">i think that's it for me. please consider feeding my ego and leaving me kudos and a comment. i'll think about it and you forever.</span><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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